


Plan C

by she_mammoth



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: M/M, Prison, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 47,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6325849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_mammoth/pseuds/she_mammoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Brendan is sent to prison he learns to accept that he will spend his life inside, he makes new friends, enemies and even sees some old faces before his trial. But will he actually be given life or eventually reunite with Steven?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Will Not Die in Prison

**Author's Note:**

> Police interview and everyone is feeling the heat

**25th March 2013**

"Interview at Chester Police Station, with Brendan Brady."

Brendan salutes to the camera, before returning his haunted stare back to Shawnee, her own gaze also set steadily on him.

"Officers present are myself, DCI Shawnee and DI Price, also present is Mr Brady's solicitor, Jim McGinn. The time is 10:45 am, Tuesday the 25th of March 2013. I must remind you that you're still under caution and you are here on suspicion of murder."

"Suspicion of murder? I've confessed."

"It's just procedure, do you understand?" DI Price pipes up for he first time. He regrets it as soon as the first syllable leaves his mouth, his words come out rushed, blending into one before stopping abruptly.

DI Andrew Price has boyish features, speckled green eyes and short brown hair.

Brendan guesses he must be ambitious to have worked his way up the ranks so quickly. Ambitious maybe, but not all that brave, he hasn't looked at Brendan directly since entering the room, says as little as possible and hunches over in an attempt to be unnoticeable.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Brendan shifts his attention to the young lad, making it so he has no choice but to continue interacting with him.

"Tell us about the first murder?" Price's voice is low and shaky under the pressure of Brendan's scrutiny.

Brendan looks him dead in the eye, tilting his head to an angle to demonstrate deep thought, leaving a ludicrously long pause before answering. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, you've confessed, there are five bodies, but no apparent reason." Shawnee takes over the interview, not wanting Brendan to play games with her young colleague.

"None died that –"

"– that didn't deserve to die." She finishes, exasperated. "Yes. Yes, we know, we've read the transcript. Care to expand?"

"No, not really. I've said I did it, was literally caught with a smoking gun in my hand. What else do you people want? If you don't mind, I'd like to serve my sentence in peace now."

With that, Brendan stands ready to leave, but Jim drags him back down into his seat.

"Brendan, what happens here today is very serious." Jim warns his client in a hushed, fanatic whisper. "Although you've confessed and will plead guilty in the Magistrates' Court, the Judge will very likely send your case to Crown Court for sentencing. If they want, they have the power to give you a longer sentence and decide where exactly you'll carry out the sentence. So please, I beg of you, cooperate."

I will not die in prison, I will not die in prison, I will not die in prison. It's never going to happen.

Brendan takes a big inhale, steadying himself. "Daniel Huston, December 28th 2010, approximately 9:45 pm." Brendan concedes.

"Where did the murder take place?"

"The cellar of Chez Chez."

"You committed a murder in a club full of people?"

"No, it was closed at the time. There had been a fire weeks before across the high village, caused damage to our roof."

"So the place was empty?" She enquirers, sly tone to her voice. "Is that why planned to do it there? No one likely to interrupt-"

"Er, you don't have to answer that!" Jim warns his client.

In true Brady form, he ignores the advice. "No, I didn't plan it. Looking back I didn't plan any of them. I just kept getting myself into... unfortunate circumstances."

"Unfortunate? Five times? You must be the unluckiest man in the whole of the North West, to have accidently kill five people." Shawnee mocks, finding him ridiculous.

"Na-ah. I said they were all unplanned, not that they were all accidents. Very different."

"Why'd you do it?" Brendan looks over, it's Price asking the question now and he looks genuinely interested.

"Danny requested my services, asked me to kill someone. You know what's funny? The funny thing is, murder wasn't even an option for me, it was a line that I was unwilling to cross. I called, told Danny that I'd done it, offed the guy. Instead I let the guy know what Danny had planned for him. Thought, let them sort it out between themselves. When Danny found out that he wasn't in fact dead, that I had lied he asked to meet me at the club. He told me he was done with the place, signed his half of the club over to Warren Fox. He was done with me too, but said he'd 'pay a visit to my little friend' before he went. I saw red, Danny had already killed someone I knew, when he threatened Steven something snapped inside of me." He taps his chest twice, real pain through his face at the though of harm coming to Steven. "I didn't even have to think about it, I picked up a crowbar and smashed his skull in. It was simple, he threatened the life of the man I loved, he had to go. I don't think he even saw it coming."

"Then you dumped the body in the river?" Price on the edge of hid seat is visible enthralled in Brendan's account of the first of his many murders.

"Then you dumped the body in the river?" Brendan mimics. "Have you ever tried dragging around a body? All that dead weight. Not an easy task, not like I could push him through the village in a wheelbarrow. I stole a car, put the body in the boot, wrapped up in an old carpet. I was set to go, but the car wouldn't start. Lucky for me one of yours, Ethan Scott, came along. Wait, ain't he locked up? Hit and run, if memory serves? He was very helpful, there were coppers everywhere, patrolling the streets and there Ethan was to lend a hand. I should have known then that he was a rubbish copper."

-8-

"Michael Cornish, your second victim. He was seen hours before his death in Hollyoaks village. Where you live, or used to. The question is how did he end up in Southport, were you just happened to be, dead at the bottom of a lighthouse?"

"I-think-it's-time-for-a-break." Jim blurts out his words, seemingly worried.

"I'm sorry?" Shawnee questions.

"My client was shot, just four days ago. He came in willingly and has been nothing but compliant. Have you got a problem with him taking some time to regain his strength in between questions?"

"Interview suspended at 11:05 am. You've got 15 minutes, Brady."

Shawnee and Price get up, heading towards the door.

"Don't forget the camcorder, I'd hate for a confidential conversation between a lawyer and his client to be 'accidently' recorded. Imagine the number of laws that would be breaking, and the disciplinary hearing that would inevitably follow, oh what terrible business that would be."

"Price, turn off that fucking camera will you?"

Once alone Jim takes out a stack of notes from his briefcase, frantically looking through pages and pages of police interviews and notes. When he looks up at Brendan he is noticeably frazzled.

"I knew there was something odd about this one, you don't make things half easy do you?"

"What are you withering on about, James?"

"We're not under any delusions that you're going to get off this one, you admitted to killing five people. The question is how long you'll go away for. My job, the reason you're paying me, is to make your sentence as short as the law will allow."

"What's the problem?"

"Well they have extensive notes from Simon Walker's report of the murder of Michael Cornish. There's a gap between his arrival to the village and him falling to his death. I think they're trying to catch you out on this one. I need you to listen to what I'm about to say, think about it, I mean really thing before you tell be exactly what happened that day, as you remember it. Can do that for me?"

"Yes, I can do that."

"You have killed multiple people, meaning life imprisonment, that's a minimum of 30 years before parole will even be considered. Now, there are certain things that will take parole off the table completely, meaning you'll get a whole-life order. Are you with me so far?"

"Yes! Just get on with it!"

Brendan's entire body is on alert, conscious on the seriousness of Jim's words and doesn't want to miss a thing.

"Okay, okay. When sentencing a murderer of two or more people there are additional aggravating factors, which include premeditation, abduction and inhuman conduct against the victim. I don't want to hear anything that may further incriminate you, I don't need to be complicit. I simply want you to tell me what happened, in a thought out well-worded way that will not add time on your sentence. Do you understand what I am telling you?"

"Ahhh." Brendan moaned, bearing teeth before smacking the palms of his hand against his forehead.

He recalls that day. Mick tied up in the boot of his car, abduction. Driving to a car park where Joel battered him with a hammer and later hanging him from the lighthouse by his feet, inhuman conduct. That was two out of three. He knew any half decent prosecution lawyer would argue that he took Mick to that lighthouse with the intention of throwing him off it, premeditation. Strike three.

Brendan understood all right, understood that one of the murders that he didn't commit might be the end of him. He might spend his last days on earth, a pathetic weak old man in a prison cell.

"I understand."

-8-

"Michael Cornish was the step father of my business partner, Joel Dexter. The day before his death I saw Michael getting handsy with Joel in the courtyard outside our club, slapping the kid about. I invited Joel to Southport with my sister, Cheryl and myself, thought some time away would get his mind of things. I have no idea how Mick knew where we were, but he sent us a message saying he had Joel's girlfriend, he must have followed her there. We tracked them down, Joel got Theresa to safety but Mick took off. Early the next morning I finial tracked him down on the roadside, I chased him to a lighthouse, where we fought. I won."

"You won?" Shawnee inquires, venom and disgust in her tone.

"He fell. In the struggle. Treacherous ledge."

"And the body?"

"As you know I called Simon Walker, he put it in the boot of my car. I drove around with it for a while, unsure of what to do. I put him in a barn, because driving around in car full of my family and friends with a body in the boot was not clever. Then you showed up, 'looking for a missing person' that's when I new something was off. Walker, he was too calm. No surge of panic, no acceleration of his heart rate, no sweat in his brow." For a second Brendan gets lost in his memories, even then when it should have been obvious, Walker was able to fool him. "Anyway, later that night I went back to the barn and the body was gone. I went back to my room, and the next day we took nana Flo to the holiday home."

"The body was gone?" Price repeats, his face distorted in disbelief.

"POOF. GONE." Brendan brushes his hands together twice and innocently shrugs, the innocent man that knows nothing of the magically disappearing corpse.

"Bodies don't just vanish." Shawnee states. More confident in her disbelief of Brendan's tale, unlike Price her face remains steady.

"Well this one did. Maybe it was dragged away by a giant country fox, I don't know."

"That didn't strike you as odd? You kill a person, lose the body and then just keep going with the family holiday?"

"Yup, pretty much."

Shawnee looks at Brendan through squinted eyes, trying to find a proof of his lie on his unreadable face. She's frustrated and agitated, and Brendan cannot let the moment pass without wind her up further.

"Maybe Walker to the body."

"Walker, and why would he do that?"

"The man was unhinged, consumed by the crazy idea that I was to blame for his brother's untimely death. He was sent under cover by you, to live with and befriend the man he hated more than anything. Remember when I said I knew something was up? After you searched my car, Walker didn't even react, I looked over at him and there was nothing, he just wanted to know where the body was. I didn't trust him after that, and he knew it. I guess that's why he came on to me."

Brendan stops to admire the reaction this elicits from his audience. Smirking as shock and disbelief spreads over their faces.

"Oppose!" Brendan pouts his lips and covers them with his hands, feigning embarrassment. "Was that not part of his assignment? Me fucking him? The guy was willing to go to any lengths to get at me, after what he did to my teenage son, which is on you." He points an accusing finger a Shawnee. "And the events of the last week it's quite clear that his plan wasn't to get me sent down. So yes, my best guess would be that Walker disposed of the body to give him more time to fuck with my life. But alas, we will never know."

"That's enough. The time is 1:12 pm, the interview is suspended to be continue at a later date."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Brendan meets his cell mate and sees a familiar face.


	2. You Owe Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warren is put in his place.

 

****26th March 2013** **

The day after he arrives at Liverpool Prison Brendan goes through psychiatric assessment and s approved for a shared cell. The cell is empty when he arrives, the bed on the right side of the rectangular room has a book on the pillow – To Kill a Mockingbird – and pictures on the wall. He put his belongs on the left side of a shared desk –bible, toothbrush and past, electric razor, pictures of his kids, one of himself with Cheryl, Joel and Mitzeee and finally Ste with his kids – before laying on the free bed.

"Open 106, transfer from sickbay." Calls out the voice of an unknown prison guard over the tannoy.

It's late evening by the time his cellmate mate returns, Brendan is sat reading the Bible his eyes flicker up, immediately returning to the words in front of him.

_Leviticus 24:17-21 And he that killeth any man shall surely be put to death. And he that killeth a beast shall make it good; beast for beast. And if a man cause a blemish in his neighbour; as he hath done, so shall it be done to him; Breach for breach, eye for eye, tooth for tooth: as he hath caused a blemish in a man, so shall it be done to him again. And he that killeth a beast, he shall restore it: and he that killeth a man, he shall be put to death._

He's cellmate is a kid barely out of his teens with fiery red hair, milky skin covered with freckles and green eyes. The kid has this nervous energy about him, constantly squirming and an expression that says he could be sick at any moment permanently planted on his face.

There are angry red marks on his neck, telling the story of a strong grip around his neck.

Although the boy - Robin - eventually musteres up the courage to say _"hi"_ Brendan has yet to utter a word to his cellmate over the last four days, or even acknowledged that there is even another person in the room at all. Their only interaction thus far had taken place in the shower when Robin had dropped his bar of soap. He warily looked around, the room was not occupied to full capacity and there was no one in close proximity. As he went to pick it up his arm was tugged harshly, Brendan simply shook his head and gave him a stern look, then offered the boy is own soap. This is when Brendan noticed more bruising, an array of purples, greens and yellow all over his torso.

It isn't just Robin, Brendan doesn't socialise with any of is fellows inmates. Word of the epic stand off at a club in Chester, requiring a helicopter and an armed police force has spread through the prison. Brendan has killed five people and survived a sniper shot, his arrival was big news in the lower security prison filled mostly with non violent offenders. He was highly anticipated, by both convicts and guards alike.

The guards look at brendan as if he is something they have trodden in, he's a cop killer and the fact that the cop in question was dirty is irrelevant, to the guards Brendan is the worst type of scum. But they aren't used to dealing with such high profile and dangerously unpredictable inmates, they are cautious of what he was capable of. The prisoners are split, they know not to fuck with hard man Brendan Brady, but his presence means different things to different people. Most stay out of his way, trying to stay off his radar, others try to recruit him for there perspective gangs or want to use his contacts for a whole range of illegal activates.

Brendan just wants to be left alone and serve his time.

-8-

By his fifth morning waking up inside Brendan has formed a daily routine. He gets up early, while the rest on the prison is still sound asleep, works out while listening to Johnny Cash – Cheryl had sent a few of his books, CDs a small stereo and his portable chess board – on the first morning he discovers Robin can sleep through pretty much anything. Wake up call is at at 7:30am, once the door to the cell is unlocked Brendan heads straight for the shower, has breakfast and goes to daily mass before returning to his cell to read.

"Kid, scram. I need a minute with Brady."

Brendan looks up, he has wondered how long it would take for Warren to come around. He looks over to Robin, who is now standing but unmoved. He's feet frozen looking between the two, seemingly seeking Brendan's permission to leave. Brendan nods, approvingly.

"You've got that one well trained." Warren smirks, taking a seat on Robin's neatly made bed.

Brendan finishes the verse before marking the page and placing the Bible to the side. His legs swing off the bed so he's sitting up right, directly across from Warren.

"I've not said a single word to the boy."

"It must be your intimidating demeanour or your reputation of being a psycho, this place was buzzing with rumours when word got out that you were coming here. Poor kid must have been scared shitless when he found out you'd be roomies."

"I've been here for five days and not a word from you, your not here for a friendly catch up or to talk about my cellmate." Brendan is sharp, already tiring of Warren.

"Straight to the point, I always did appreciate that about you. But the days are long inside, there's no harm in a little small talk to pass the time. Not to worry, you've got 30 to life to get used to it."

"Just get on with it, Warren." Brendan warns.

"Word is, you had yourself a little trip to the cop shop yesterday?"

"You want to know what I said about Danny?"

"You tried stitching me up with that once before, I've just come to make sure you ain't made the same mistake twice. It'd be a shame if my mates in here had to pay you a visit."

"Warren I'm the reason your in here, I turned your girlfriend and even your son against you. If that isn't reason enough to put a target on my back then I don't know what is. My guess is none of your little mates have the balls to even say boo to me now. A few of them have actually been quite hospitable. I have to say I'm feeling the love, so if you want to do the big man act lets just see how that turns out for you."

Warrens looks defeated, never one to hide his emotions well. Knowing Brendan has all the cards he gets up to leave.

"Foxy." Brendan's standing now, invading Warrens persons space. "I didn't say a word about your involvement."

"Why not?" Warren questions, suspicious.

"I'm in here either way, might as well do an old friend a favour. Mark 11:25 _'and when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.'_ I'm a changed man."

Brendan looks at Warren tenderly, an inviting smile across his face. Nevertheless, he can almost see the cogs turning in Warrens head as it tries to figure out the catch.

"You're going to hang this over me?"

"It couldn't hurt to have someone like you to owing me one in a place like this. Owing me two in fact."

"Two? And how'd you figure that."

"Joel."

"Joel?"

"Joel, your son. Mick, my second 'victim' was Joel's step-daddy. I killed Danny for Steven, why would I go and do a thing like kill for your son?"

"You wouldn't."

"The kid's already been inside twice, once for battering the guy. Accident or not I don't see a judge being too lenient, do you?"

"Why would I give a damn about what happens to that little scroat?"

"Oh I think you give a damn. He's your only son, your blood you can't help but care."

There a beat when Warren says nothing trying to bluff his way out. "Fine, whatever." He relents.

"I'll be seeing you Foxy." Brendan feel's pretty smug as Warren leaves.

Before brendan has a chance to return to his reading the post trolley stops outside his cell. There are letters and a package for Robin, which he places on his side of the desk. The envelope at the bottom of the pile is addressed to and Brendan already knows what is sealed inside it, he's had the exact piece of paper arrive everyday, without fail. A request for a visiting order from Ste, he tickes the refusal box and hands it back to the inmate in charge of post straight.

Brendan sits for a while, thinking of how much pain Steven must be in, but he had told him that he wouldn't let him visit. He has to live his life, Brendan has nothing more to offer him. Contact will only make it harder, for the both of them.

Brendan hadn't realised how much time had passed, he could spend all day thinking of his Steven. He splashes water over his face before heading off to his prison job in the kitchen.

-8-

He spends the rest of the day in a haze, the monotony of prison life is easy to fall into and requires very little dinnertime Brendan is still out of it, missing his love, grieving for the _happily ever after_ they'd now never get. He sits in corner of the canteen on a table he has claimed for himself alone, after an incident on the first day no one had dared join him. Brendan wasn't looking to cause trouble, he had to be on his best behaviour, there was many perks to be gained by a long timer like himself for good behaviour. But he also knew that he had to assert his place occasionally.

_When some big guy came over patted his back, talking about smuggling heroin he quickly decided this should be his first frenzied act. He picked up his tray and slammed it against thet guy's head, knocking him to the floor. Discarding the tray he went at him with his fists, over and over. The guards eventually pull Brendan off his bloody and beaten target, he shrug himself out of their grasp announced to the room 'I like to eat my meals in peace, it's the simple pleasures', before returning to his pudding totally calm. That was that._

Uncharacteristically, Brendan has yet to take a single forkful of the meal in front of him, he's in such a state, mind so muddled eating is the last thing Brendan wants to do. As he walks over to the bins to dispose of his untouched soggy meal Brendan the loud clatter of a food tray hitting the floor rings through the dinning hall, proceeded by a united jeer from the inmated. But it's the complete silence that follows that really catches Brendan's attention.

Brendan turns to see his cellmate, whom has a tendency to walk around with his head down, in an attempt to be invisible, honestly it makes him look weak. An easy target. Eyes on the floor, the boy has walked into another prisoner, whose dinner is now down his front and over the floor. Brendan can see the look in the man's eyes, the look that many have seen in his own eyes countless of times before. This is not going to end well for Brendan's you cellmate. Brendan hesitates for a second, swaying back and forth where he is standing, looking from the door to the frightened boy and back to the door again.

By the time he makes his way though the crowd now circled around the two men, the kid is pinned against the wall about to have his face caved in. Brendan makes there just in time to pull back the man's arched arm before he can do any damage. The man shakes off Brendan's hold, turning to look at whoever dared get involved in his business, fuming eyes falling on Brendan.

Brendan simply looks past, pulling the Robin away and pushing him into the crowd.

"Get back to our cell." Brendan orders the visible shaken boy.

Robin doesn't need to be told twice, he run the entire way only feeling safe when the cell door closes behind him.

-8-

"And I thought I was the psychotic one in this place. No need to cry over spilt milk." Brendan laughs manically to himself, noting the cup of milk on the floor.

There are grumbles of laughter from the horde behind him, but not from the man I front of Brendan, he still looks like he could blow at any moment. The mood of the room changes, tension rippling through as the man came toe to toe with Brendan. Ready for a confrontation.

"Alright lads?" Brendan turns at hearing that familiar voice for the second time in just a few short hours. Warren stands with his arms crossed at Brendan's side.

"Lincoln, you got a problem with my friend here?"

"You know this moppet? He's got a death wish." Lincoln fumes.

"Me and Brady we go way back, I dated he sister for a while, lovely woman." He laughed to himself when Brendan lets out a low growl. "He didn't mean anything, always had a soft spot for young boys did our Brendan. Anyway I'm sure the _three_ of us can work this out amicable?"

Lincoln assessed the situation, looking at the two men in front of him, Brendan poised for a fight while Warren has this annoying grin on his face. He is bigger than both Brendan and Warren, but together they could take him. With all the talk he has heard over the last few days its's unlikely any of the other inmates will have his back against Brendan Brady, the guards haven't even come over to break up the commotion.

"Amicable, sure. Just tell that boy of yours to stay out of my way."

-8-

There are no good days in prison, just days better or worse than others. This has been the worst so far, being apart from Ste has become unbearable and his future is bleak. Brendan isn't too happy that he has just now made an enemy, less that a week in, and is sure Warren is going to count that as one of his favours. He just wants to get back to his cell and sleep through the rest of this day.

"Kid, you need to be more careful. I'm not always going to be there to protect you."

Robin is curled up under his sheets, his back to Brendan. He doesn't respond, but Brendan can tell he is still awake because of the sniffing from crying. He decides to leave it, stripping to his boxers and putting on his standard prison issued pyjama bottoms. It wasn't cold so he lies on top of the sheets, arms under his head ready for sleep.

Being miserable all day is exhausting, so Brendan driftes into a light sleep fairly quickly.

The weight on the mattress shifts, then there's a warm slender body on top of his. He's dreaming of Steven again. Brendan lets go, indulging in the fantasy of his dreams as legs move either side of his hips, hands on his chest and lips pressed against his own. At that Brendan's eyes Spring open, because even in his sleep in knows exactly what Steven's lips feel like, taste like. Those lips, the body in top of his definitely do not belong to Steven.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Brendan demands, sitting up.

"What do you think?" Robin's voice is low and husky.

Still straddling Brendan, nuzzling his neck and caressing his chest. Brendan grabs the boy by the wrists to stop him.

"Are you even gay?"

Robin laughs in response, but it's humourless. "Like that even matters, there's only one thing someone like me is good for in this place."

"So you what, you just jump into people's bed and maul them?"

"It's easier that way. If I don't struggle, give them what they want it hurts less and I don't get a beating."

Brendan only now notices how sad the boy looks, he wonders if he's always been that sad. He hasn't taken any real notice of him. The reason for the bruises and his trip to sickbay is obvious now. He lets go of Robin wrists, the boy climbing off Brendan's body to perche on the edge of the bed, Brebdan follows suit.

"What made you think I wanted anything from you?"

"You said you wouldn't always be there to protect me. I thought that meant you'd look after me if I let you... you know. People round her are scared of you, better I be yours than the bitch of the prison, being paced around from one frustrated asshole to another."

"They rape you?"

"I'm still alive." He doesn't answer the question.

Brendan instantly feels compassion for the boy, but can see he doesn't want to talk about it and knows first hand he doesn't want to be pitied.

"If you get yourself killed I'm going get a new cellmate. You're quiet, neat and don't snore, I like that, that's the only reason I stepped in. I don't need anything from you. Go back to you bed Robin."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Brendan decides to take on an apprentice


	3. Return to Sender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sensei Brady

 

**27th March 2013**

It's well past midnight and Robin has yet to fall asleep, kept awake by the sounds of other prisoners, shouting threats or laughing in insanity and others just crying out for the mothers. Brendan had learnt to tune out sounds these from his previous stint in prison, but is still lying wide-awake on the other side of the cell, with too much on his mind.

Eventually Brendan hears the heavy but even sounding breathes of sleep from across the room. Staring into the darkness he focus is on the pain coming from his shoulder, radiating from the bullet wound. He'll have to lay off the exercise for a while, find another way to release his pent up energy.

The burning hot pain becomes a dull ache, his thoughts dissipate into nothingness, eyelids heavy sleep finally comes.

-8-

_buzz buzz buzz_

Brendan and Robin are woken by the sound of the morning roll-call bell resonating through the prison. Robin jerks up violently, still, after all these months he isn't still used to the way the noise vibrates through the metal frame of his bed.

"Morning."

He turns, surprised to see Brendan still in bed, stretching out and looking shattered. Even more surprising is the Irishmen's greeting.

"Um … yeah, morning." He returns.

The electronic doors slid open and both men get out of bed, joining the row of inmates lining the corridor.

"Bower."

"Yep." After his name is called by the guard, Bower returns to his cell crawling back into bed.

"Watson."

"Here." Robin murmured in a mouse like squeak.

"Brady."

"Still here." Brendan yawned out lazily.

With that Brendan heads straight to the shower room, needing the sensation of hot water cascading over his body to wake up fully.

-8-

Robin is already eating breakfast and passes Brendan a cup of tea as he walks in, made from his own weekly teabags and sugar allowance.

"To say thanks, and sorry for last night." He says.

"Don't mention it."

Brendan opens his own breakfast pack, delivered the evening before and makes himself a jam sandwich. After taking his first sip of tea, he looks over at his cellmate, raising an eyebrow because he can tell it has three sugars. Just how he likes it.

They eat in silence.

-8-

Brendan's lunch is delivered half way through the meeting he has with his lawyer to discuss his finances.

"There's been an offer on the club, it's being finalised as we speak and should go through within the next few days."

"Really that fast?" He asks with a mouthful of chicken & mushroom pie.

"Well after everything that went on there, there's been quite a lot of buzz about the place. People love the story, and you've got quite the hoard of groupies coming around. It's just good business."

Brendan grimaces at the idea of people idolising him and the though someone making a profit from what went on that night. What Cheryl had to do, what she'll have to live with and of course the moment when everything he had with Ste slipped through his fingers.

"There were quite a few people interested, drove the value up. To £305,000 to be exact, well over the starting bid. This is to be split between your children I believe?"

"And Joel Dexter. My business partner, he should get a third."

"The club had another owner, that will complicate things." Jim says, while sifting through the contract for the club, looking for where he missed Joel's name.

"He signed his half over to me a while ago, but didn't exactly get compensated. I don't know where he is now, but he should be easy enough to find."

"Okay that's good, I can deal with that no problem. I've arrange for an estate agent to book viewings for the property on Fern Street, the flats you own."

"No." Brendan barks out more forcefully than intended. "It's to be signed over to Steven Hay. It's his home and he can rent out the flat above."

"Okay, I'll draw up the paper work for that. Then there the matter of your personal wealth, you car, the house your family resides in, in Ireland and…" Jim takes a moment to look through his papers once again. "…whoa! A total of £538,734.09 in your bank accounts. Being a club owner is obviously a lucrative business." Jim sceptically remarks.

"You can sell the car, give the money to a kids hospital or something. The house can go to my ex-wife, Eileen. And the money: £100,000 is to go to each of my lads, in a fund until they're 18. £100,000 to Eileen to help look after the kids and to payoff whatever's left on the mortgage. The rest is for Steven."

"One more thing, I see you own a flat in Dublin?"

"It can't be worth a lot, sell it, split it between the kids."

"It's my opinion that you should keep some reserves. Legal bills being what they are, prison life can get expensive and money to live on when you get out of here."

"Sure, if I ever get out of this place, put the money from the sale in an account."

"Okay, I'll have this all typed up and sent back for you to sign."

"How is he?" Brendan asked in a strained voice.

"Steven?"

"No, your dustbin man. " Brendan dead pans. "Yes Steven, of course Steven."

"I know he's kid were in the village over the weekend, which I guess is the one positive of this all."

Jim falters but Brendan doesn't react to his candidness.

"I saw him drunk in the pub after that, in a bit of state. Haven't seen him around since then."

"I want you to keep an eye on him for me."

"Stalker isn't on my list of roles as your attorney."

"You can call it whatever you want James, all I need if for you to tell me how he's doing, okay?"

"Yeah. Yes I can do that."

-8-

When Brendan returns to the cell a few hours later Robin is exactly how he left him. Curled up reading his letters, it doesn't look liked he'd moved, not even for lunch. Brendan wants to say something but is distracted by the sound of wheels rolling.

"Post. You've got two today." The 'postman' notes, before handing two envelopes to Brendan and taking root by the door.

Brendan looks down at the two envelopes, one white, he recognises as a visiting order request. The other is brown with a hand written address, Steven's tiny scrawl. He rips the first one open, again ticking the refusal box. Looking down at the letter from Steven he twirling it around before handing them both back.

"That one can be returned to the sender."

Brendan stands there for what feels like a life time, fidgeting in the centre of their cell, thoughts jumbled yet mind racing. Robin watches, it's been 20 minutes and he's unsure of what to do, unsure if he should to anything at all.

"Kid, lets go." Brendan suddenly says, out of the cell before Robin could respond. As he strides down the corridor, people stepping aside to create a path he can hear hurried footsteps trying to catch up.

"Where are we going?"

Brendan looks down at the boy semi-jogging next to him, cheeks red.

"Dinner."

Robin comes to an abrupt stop.

"I can't." He says.

"It wasn't an invitation, I said we're going for dinner. Lets go."

Robin looks in the direction of the canteen with no indication of movement.

"Do not make me repeat myself." He calls back while walking through a set of double doors, the lad at his heel up a flight of stairs. "And don't walk around all hunched over like your puppy's just been shot. If you look feeble, people will treat you as such. Walk with you're back straight, head held confidently and look the other men straight in the eye when you pass."

"I'm 5'7 and skinny as fuck, people treat me feeble because I am."

Brendan growls at the next person they pass, invading his personal space until he backs away. He turns to his cellmate laughing but the boy doesn't look impressed.

"The last time I was in this place, Warren Fox had me beaten up everyday. Now because of a few stories being distorted from person to person, like a game of Chinese whispers I'm king-ding-a-ling."

A wide grin spreads over Robins face, almost laughing for the first time in months, but quickly vanishes when he sees Brendan's face is deadly serious.

"It's all about perception. Give people a reason to be wary of you and they will be." He says passing a tray to Robin as they cut to the front of the queue.

"Easy for you to say, I'm still half the size of most of the guys in here. You on the other hand…"

When he looks up Brendan's already sat at his table in the corner, demolishing his lasagne. Robin freezes, unsure. Does he expect him to come over? Surely not, the last guy that did that is still in the sickbay. He scans the canteen for an empty seat, far away from Lincoln, preferably.

Brendan's stops eating, staring Robin down. When they make eyes contact again he indicates to the empty seat beside him. Robin slowly walk over, paranoid that people are looking. When he sets his tray down and takes his seat to Brendan's right he has a perfect view and knows for sure every set of eyes in the place are on them. Waiting for something to happen.

"See perception." Brendan smirks, taking a big mouthful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Police interview continues


	4. Why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Melanie[To Brian]: What are you Mr. Teflon? Shit just never sticks to you!

 

**5th April 2013**

Shawnee turns on the camcorder and sits down across from Brendan. She recites their location, the names of those present and then the date and time, before beginning. " _None died that didn't deserve to die._ " She reads from a file. "Florence Brady, your grandmother, what did she do to _deserve_ her fate? Why kill a dying pensioner?"

_She knew. She knew what he did to me and she did nothing. She stood back and let my life be taken away, let him make me into this into a freak. That's why._

"Mr Brady?"

Brendan lifts his attention from the multi-coloured grains on the table top to the direction of the voice. Price is looking at him with a mixture of surprise and pity, they were all staring at him, Jim and Shawnee too. He touches his fingertips to his face, feeling a solitary tear making its way down his cheek to be absorbed by the beard that is beginning to form.

Killing his own grandmother had affected Brendan differently from the other lives he had taken. Danny had been the first, it scared and haunted him for months afterwards. He had threatened Steven's life and Brendan would never regret what he did. Although he didn't kill Mick with his own hands, Brendan knew he was entirely responsible. Then again, Mick was a man that had abused a woman and a child. So when he plummeted to the ground, the contents of his head staining concrete a violent red Brendan didn't bat an eyelid, the world was better off. Walker had made it so only one of them would make it out alive, Brendan had acted in self-defence and not even God himself could hold that against him. He hopes. He hasn't thought much about his Nana Flo because he doesn't feel guilty, by his moral code she did in fact deserved her fate. But he did feel something, a grief inside his bones.

"Mr Brady?" Price repeats, an uneasiness to his voice.

Brendan is finally able to draw his thoughts back from the dark void deep within his mind back to the current situation, forcing the ache out of his marrow.

"My dear nana…" He sniffs, wiping the tear away and using it to his advantage. "She was very ill, cancer. She was a vibrant woman, full of joy and didn't want to spend her last days in a hospital bed."

"You're saying she asked you to kill her?" Shawnee asks to clarify.

"I believe the term is assisted suicide." Brendan corrects, with a choirboy smile on is face. "Nana Flo was a devout Catholic, her faith was very important to her. Suicide is a mortal sin, so you see the predicament?"

"If I recall you are also religious?"

"Yes, but I am a violent, murderous homosexual. I'm already going to hell what's one more blip on my soul?"

Shawnee doesn't say a word but doesn't take her eyes off Brendan. He returns the stare, almost daring her to dispute his heartfelt tale.

It's Price who interrupts the stand off. "Can you tell us about your next victim, DI Walker?"

"I'd like it on the record that Mr Simon Walker was no longer on the Police force at the time of his death, due to the numerous crimes he committed. Which included, but is not limited to, the murder of Riley Costello, the attempted murders of Steven Hay and Declan Brady." Jim informs the camera. "While evading arrest he was able to kidnap Steven Hay and Cheryl Brady, holding Seamus and Brendan Brady hostage. As well as attacking you, DCI Shawnee."

"How did you know about the assault?" Shawnee asks, off guard.

"Oh, I have my ways." Jim taps his nose, smiling. He had said very little during both interviews, but when he did have something to say it reminded Brendan why he was paying such a high fee. "I'd also liked to add that he wasn't a _'victim'_. Mr Brady acted in self-defence, making it manslaughter."

"We're not here to argue the charges. The prosecutor will alter them if she or he sees fit." Shawnee pauses for a moment, visibly bracing herself up to say something. "What happened on the day of Simon's death?"

"As you know after his arrest Simon Walker managed to slip through your fingers, yet again. The next day he sent Steven a message saying he'd hurt his two young children if I didn't meet him. I followed him to a railway track, where he attacked me and then tried to push me off the bridge. Obviously he failed."

"Did he suffer?" Shawnee enquires about the man that was once her friend, exposing more of herself than intended.

"He got in the way of an oncoming train so I assume he was dead within seconds. But from the pictures there I can see you have already found the pieces of his body."

Both Price and Brendan look over at Shawnee, waiting for retaliation or more questions but her eyes are glazed over. She looks sad and regretful, lost in her memories and ideas and scenarios of what if's?

Price decides the to take over the interview realising it is getting too much for her. "So, what events lead to the murder of your father?"

"We never got on, so I killed him." He wants to keep this short. Realistically Brendan knows that no one will question his confession, and there is no reason to even look at Cheryl as a suspect but he can't help but worry if he says too much the lie will unravel.

"A lot of people don't have a good relationship with their parents, but they manage not to kill them." Price doesn't look convinced, far from it fact. "From what I can tell you had your own reasons for committing all previous murders, so why did you kill Seamus?"

"What can I say? Killing, it gets easier the more you do it, after a while you don't need to make excuses."

"I still find it hard to believe you woke up one day and put a bullet in your Father's back."

Brendan breath is becoming slightly laboured, the boy is clever and he can see how the young Detective Inspector managed to work his way through the ranks so quickly. "Maybe I should give you an example?"

"That would be helpful."

"As a boy I loved Knight Rider, I mean I really loved it you know? One Christmas, I must have been nine or ten and he bought me an Action Man figure. Action Man." Brendan scoffed affronted. "When all I ever wanted was a Knight Rider Car. I mean what kind of old man does that to their son? Eh?"

"You poor boy." Shawnee quips, voice heavy with sarcasm.

Brendan continues only looking at Price, ignoring her cynicisms. "Then he comes back into my life just before Christmas and it all came flooding back. After that, every time I looked him in the eye all I could think of is that Night Rider car."

The room is silent in disbelief, shocked and mortified. Jim looks like he wants to say something, anything that could portray Brendan in a better light, as a normal human being but for once is flabbergasted. Brendan knows this isn't going to help his case, the prosecutor will paint him as a cold-blooded killer who executed his own father, better that than the truth.

Brendan stares straight into the camer and says with no emotion at all. "He got what was coming to him."

-8-

Life in prison has made Robin hyperaware of his surroundings and so he senses Brendan's presences without look away from the words in font of him.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Just dandy, happy as can be."

He eventually looks up to see Brendan leaning against the doorway of their cell, arms crossed, head cocked just watching him read.

"I just meant … I figure it must be hard spending time in the real world just to be locked up again."

All he receives as a response is an indifferent grunt as Brendan looks down the corridor. Robin has become accustomed Brendan's sudden disinterested half way though a conversation, and so not expecting a reply he returns to his letter.

"Not exactly the 'real world' is it?" Brendan eventually says. "I'm cuffed at the gates of the prison, then fastened to the floor of the transport van just to sit in a police station for hours."

"Yeah. Right. Sorry. I didn't think."

"Don't apologise."

Robin simply nods, adding it to his mental list of 'Prison Survival Skills by Brendan Brady' that he is compiling.

"Any trouble while I was gone?"

"Nobody bothered me."

"So you left the cell?" Brendan asks, suspiciously.

"I went for lunch, sat at your table like you said. No one said a word."

"So the guy, that was-"

Robin interrupts, not wanting Brendan to say the word _rape_ out loud again. "No, nobody's laid a finger on me." His voice is loud and high-pitched.

Brendan notice how uncomfortable his cellmate is getting, knowing personally how hard it is to discuss what has happened to him, Brendan leaves the subject alone.

"Come on, lets go."

"Where to?"

"Yard."

"The ya-arrd?" He stutters. "What for?"

"I like to stay active but I can't exactly workout, owing to the bullet that ripped through my shoulder last week. And you could use some vitamin D, I haven't seen you go out once."

Robin opens his mouth to speak but his jaw is heavy and he's unable to speak or look Brendan in the eye.

"What?" Brendan questions.

He wants to say _'the guards don't patrol out in the yard, so if something happens there's a lag time for protection'_ but he thinks better of it. Robin still doesn't know why Brendan is protecting him and doesn't want to do anything to jeopardise that. Whatever this is, he knows that Brendan had no time for weakness. _'Don't be a victim'_ Brendan's words echoed through his mind, over and over.

"Nothing." He simply say while stepping into his trainers.

-8-

The short walk from the transport van to the police station entrance made Brendan miss the feeling of the sun on his skins. The weather was surprising good after days of rain and wind, so he had taken advantage tilting his head up, soaking it all in, every ray of sunshine.

Walking round the outskirts of the yard is cathartic for him, but out of the corner of his eye he can see Robin squirming, hyper vigilant as ever. He feels sorry for the kid, empathises because he knows what it is like to be smaller and vulnerable and have your rights and dignity stolen.

He can't help but wonder how such a young and seemingly innocent soul could end up in here. It made him think of Steven, a young lad could make one stupid mistake, and end up doing some serious time.

"What are you in for?" Brendan asks.

"I killed three people." The younger man replies, bluntly.

Brendan stops, turning to face Robin. Triple murder is not what he was expecting to hear, but the look on the boys face – an airy nothingness – tells him he was completely serious.

"Men or woman?"

"Men."

Convinced he wasn't sharing a cell with a psychopath devoid of human emotions with a weakness for kill woman Brendan carries on walking.

"You're not going to ask me why I did it? I thought it would matter to someone like you."

"It matters, it always matter. You'll tell me in your own time." Brendan simply states.

They walk in silence for a minute, Brendan shocked by the fact that his timid cellmate is a killer. Robin shocked by Brendan's non-reaction.

"Someone like me?" Brendan asks out of nowhere. "Before you said ' _I thought it would matter to someone like you?'_ what did you mean?"

Robin's voice gets caught in his throat, he doesn't want to speak out of turn. He'd seen how violently Brendan could react. On the other hand, there was no getting out of giving him an answer, better to give the impression on fearlessness.

"There are some guys in here that are just soulless monsters, from what I can gather you are different."

"I killed five people." Brendan points out.

"I didn't say you were innocent, you're just not a monster. You don't show any remorse for your actions but at the same time you don't revel in it. And before you asked me if I had killed women or men, that type of thing matters to you. I can tell you value human life. Most of the time anyway."

Brendan wants to protest, he can't understand what it is about him that people what to believe in. To cling to some hidden goodness within him that he doesn't think is there. But they are both distracted by a voice behind them.

"Brendan Brady."

Brendan turns to see an old face. "Kai."

"I heard you were back."

"Can't stay away." Brendan jokes, his voice lacking humour.

"How long you planning on sticking around this time?"

"Haven't you heard? They're saying I'm a serial killer. Again. And I've confessed, don't really have any hopes of getting out."

"I don't know, you're like Teflon. Shit doesn't stick. Anyway, I thought I'd come over, welcome you back and offer my appreciation."

"Appreciation, for what?"

"That copper mate of yours, your first time in, he was desperate to be in my crew. Apparently he was in here to find out about my operation, extend my sentence. So, thank you for whatever you did to get me off the coppers' radar."

Brendan recalls the conversation he had with Walker about Kai, he also remembers mentioning the kid with the tattoo… Cam. He could kick himself, but doesn't let it show. "You know me, always here to help."

"Anything you need in here, I'm your man."

They resume their walk and Brendan can sense the kid looking at him, desperate to say something. "What is it?"

"You know Kai?"

"From a different life."

"He doesn't seem to think so. The guy has a brick wall surrounding him, it be easier to get an audience with the Queen. But you, he just walks up to in the yard." Robin is impressed.

"Kid, it's better to stay away from his kind."

"But he just gave you an in, you wouldn't have to watch your back."

"Yeah, it's useful to have someone like that onside if needed, but you can't trust people in here."

Brendan's words hit home. It has been a week since Brendan saved him from Lincoln and he has had Robin's back ever since, taken him under his wing even. Robin is grateful because he's meals aren't being taken, people aren't beating on him for sport anymore and the latest rumour was that Brendan had claimed him as his own so he hadn't been violated. Life in prison was becoming almost bearable but he realises now that he was letting himself become complacent.

"So how do I know I can trust you?"

"Kid, I never said you could."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Prison life become routine and Brendan gets a blast from the (not so distant) past


	5. Refractions From The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminders of the past.

16th April 2013

It's 7:00 am, Liverpool prison is in total silence as it is every day at this time. This rare moment of silence allows an hour before morning roll call for Brendan to get completely lost in his thoughts. Thoughts of the new life Cheryl is living, imagining the men his boys will grow to be, along with thousands of different daydreams of Steven. The life he is leading now verses the life they could have had together.

The happily ever after that never was.

Brendan counts, keeps track of time. He's twenty-five days into his sentence, or six hundred long hours. He isn't counting down, there's very little chance that he'll ever be a free man, instead he counts the number of days since he last saw Steven. It's a form of torture.

What is he doing?

Who is he doing it with?

Is he happy?

Has he moved on yet?

Brendan can only assume the answer to the latter is a resounding yes. He is no longer receiving visiting order requests. He has told himself that this can only be a good thing, it is how it has to be. He had asked for it, it's what he wants, for Steven to live his life.

buzz buzz buzz

Across the room Robin is woken by the sound of the morning roll call bell, both men neatly make their beds and get dressed in silence, before joining the row of men lining the corridor.

"Bower."

"Yep." Bower retuned to his cell crawling back into bed, as he has done routinely every morning.

"Watson."

"Here." Robin's voice is stronger now, and he looks the guard in the eye.

Brendan is proud of the boy's growing bravery, or the allusion of it anyway. This emotion takes him by surprise.

"Brady."

" Mm-hmm." He salutes to the guard.

-8-

It has been over 3 weeks and Brendan has almost fully recovered from the shooting and is able to power through any residual pain. Both men have taken to spending an hour in the gym first thing in the morning, followed by a shower and then breakfast in their cell, still in complete silence. Robin is beginning to get used to Brendan's extended periods of muteness, appreciating that he only speaks when necessary.

After attending daily mass alone, Brendan returns to his cell to find Robin fixated on one of his letters. It's the same thing day in day out. "Who is it that writes to you?" Brendan probes, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.

"My dad, when he can't visit he writes to keep me updated on his health. He's not been well."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Chronic kidney diseases, needs a transplant but they haven't found a match yet. He won't take mine, he's worried about my quality of life. Quality of life?" He laughs to himself. It is a laugh that lacked any humour and Brendan wonders if cynicism is something the impressionable boy has picked up from him and being in this place. "Not like I need it in here."

"He's your dad, he doesn't see it like that." Brendan can't help but think of his boys. He'd do anything to keep them safe but could never take from them for himself. "So these letters you re-reading and obsess over they're all about your fathers medical condition?"

"No, not all of them." Robin murmurs, looking down at his mattress when he blushes.

Brendan raises his eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

"I have this friend, she writes to me every few days and I write back."

"Like penpals." Brendan comments. "Just a friend, is she?"

"I'm going to be locked behind bars for the rest of my life, not exactly boyfriend material."

Brendan can understand that. He never lets himself think about Steven after the hour before the rest of the prison wakes – it some how seems to sully his memories - but he can't stop his mind from wondering now.

Before all of this, was he ever boyfriend material?

"Post!" The voice of the 'postman' echoing throughout their cell snaps Brendan back to reality.

He watches as his cellmate retrieves his mail, the only person Brendan is in contact with is Cheryl and they speak on the phone. So when Robin hands him a white envelope, a visiting order request he is surprised.

"Someone hasn't given up yet, then?" Robin observes.

It has been over a week since Steven last sent one, Brendan had assumed he had finally giving up after his letter was returned, unopened. Brendan had imagined Steven living a full life over the last week, taking the kids to the park, cooking up a storm or having a laugh with Doug in the deli. Just living life, a happy life. But looking down at the white envelope ignites something inside him, it means Steven hasn't forgotten him yet. He slides open the envelope smiling despite himself, but is surprised by the name typed out in front of him.

"This is from someone else entirely." He finally responds to Robin's previous statement. Brendan fills out the form, intrigued and returns it to the 'postman'. "Come on kid, we'll be late for the kitchen."

Brendan has managed to get his young cellmate a job along side him in the kitchen. For two reasons. One he need to test how much power he had with the guard and was happy to see they gave into his request with relative ease. Two, Robin's previous prison job had been in the laundry room with men like Lincoln, unsafe.

They spent the rest of the morning in the kitchen, peeling, grating, chopping and scrubbing. Kitchen duty is followed by an uneventful lunch, which precedes visiting hour.

-8-

Brendan scans the room for his visitor, he sees the boy sat in the far corner of the room, his head down and eyes averted away from the prisoners.

"Why so nervous?"

The young boy looks up to meet Brendan's eye, he can't tell if he's happy to seem him, but it's obvious he doesn't want to be here.

"Warren, he's here isn't he?"

So that's what's bothering him.

"Not exactly Mr popular, your dad. Doesn't get any visitors from what I've seen." Brendan give what he hopes is a reassuring smile to Joel and takes his seat across the table. "Not that I ain't glad to see you and all, but-"

"Why am I here?" Joel finishes.

Brendan rests his chin on his thumb, and rubbed his index finger over lips. It's in his nature to be cautious, his relationship with Joel had been turbulent, tumultuous. He cared for the boy, and Joel was one of the two people there for him at Lynsey's funeral. But they had both done things to hurt the other.

"Always suspicious." The boy says, reading his body language.

"You did try to steal from me."

"Then you threatened to kill me if you ever saw me again."

"Yet, here you are? Always were foolishly brave."

"I think I'll be alright, we're in a room full of witnesses." He jokes unsure.

"What they going to do, add more time to life?"

Joel looks frightened, he puts on a brave face and his best tough man act, not breaking eye contact. But Brendan can smell it on him.

He smiles at his old business partner, a genuine smile. He hadn't realised how much he had missed this infuriatingly stubborn young man. He regrets the way they had left things, especially after all they had been through together. It's probably why he had given him all that money. To make amends.

He's happy when Joel returns the smile. That small, in awe smile he used to receive from his boys when they where just toddlers. Joel was looking for a farther figure, someone to guide him and Brendan wishes he had done a better job. Instead he almost dragged him to hell along side himself.

"I came to say thanks, for the money."

"You did own half the club." Brendan mimics the childish tone Joel had used on several occasions. "It was rightfully yours."

"Also I need to know why, why you took the blame for Mick?"

"I didn't take the blame, what happened at the top of that lighthouse was my fault. Everything that I made you do to him…" Brendan exhales.

He was trying to teach Joel to take back the power, to be in control. Mick was a monster, but how was he any different? What he did to Vinnie, Macca, Steven and so many others it was exactly the same as what Mick had done to Joel and his mother. He was reflecting his internal struggle on Mick and he got Joel involved.

"You didn't make me do anything, I wanted him to suffer. It was me that killed him." Joel whispers, looking around the room to make sure nobody is listening in on them.

"Joel it was an accident. He came at me and you reacted. But what I said up on that balcony still stands, I was responsible for his death. If it wasn't for me you would never have been up there."

"I'm still grateful. I'm not watching my back anymore, waiting for the coppers to find me. Now me mam knows that he isn't coming back, it's like a weight has been lifted."

"You going back to the village? Now that there's not a mad man threatening to batter you?" Brendan jokes.

"There's nothing there for me anymore."

"What about the McQueen, Theresa?" He had never really taken to the girl, but he knew Joel really loved her.

"She's moved, Dodger Savage."

"So you have been back to the village?"

"Yeah, just for a bit. I was going to check in on Cheryl but she's back in Ireland and I wanted one last look at the club. Mercedes McQueen is running it." Joel's comments, his lips turning down in disdain, while Brendan's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Her fella, Dr Browning bought it." He instantly regrets his words when surprise transforms into rage. "I thought you knew?"

"It was an auction, my lawyer never said who actually won." Brendan can feel the rage taking over. The red mist, descending. First that vile man takes the life of a kind and innocent young woman and now he's taken Brendan's sanctuary and given it to his bike of a girlfriend. "Tell me about you life?" He ask, not wanting be consumed by grief and anger.

"I was in London for a while, DJing just trying to survive. Then I met my aunt, Katy, Warren sister, she took me in. It was nice getting got know my family. After you where all over the news, I went back home to make sure me mam was okay. Then I got your cheque, and it was like a second chance. I'm going to do things right, legit. I'm setting up a haulage and delivery company. Buying a small place, somewhere me mam can start fresh."

Brendan listens to the lad go on and on about his plans for the future, with the same passion and determination he had when he wanted to get in on Brendan's side deals. The older man couldn't help but feel pride, giving finical advise and the details of his legal business contacts.

Joel had obviously learnt from the mistakes of Brendan and Warren. He was going to make something of himself, and look after his mother. Neither his biological father, stepfather or surrogate father had been positive role models, but their influence in his life had taught him valuable lessons.

Before they knew it the buzzer was going off to signify the end of visitation.

"I'm glad I came."

Brendan holds Joel in a long and tight embrace, ignoring the words of warning form the guards.

"Me too."

-8-

On the walk back to his cell Brendan realises he never did get to ask Joel if he had seen Steven on his trip back to the village. Perhaps it was for the best, he had obviously moved on with his life. Brendan had to do the same, he had to accept that this was his life now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Robin's Origins.


	6. Refractions From The Past: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stories of the past.

16th April 2013

It's dinnertime and Brendan is sat with Robin at their usual table, eating a meal they've made themselves and he feels a weirdly gratified. He's learning to cook and isn't terrible at it, the first time he made mash that was both deliciously creamy and satisfyingly lumpy he imagined Steven would be shocked into silence. It also gave him some resemblance of control, in a place where there was a buzzer telling him when to get up, showers shared with thirty other men, yard time allocated to a few hours a day and lights out was at 10pm, something small like contributing to the menu felt good.

He looks over at Warren, who is now occupying one of the empty stools at their table. Brendan knows he should do something to make him move, but doesn't have the energy, and continues to eat his meal.

"Word is, you had a visit from that scrawny little poof of yours."

"Didn't know you where so interested in my personal life, Foxy." He avoids, not correcting him.

Brendan knows Joel doesn't want anything to do with his father, especially now that he is turning his life around.

"You know me, love to keep up with current affairs." He replies with a shit-eating grin on his face. "You must be all hot and bothered, it really is a shame that there's no conjugal visits in this country. You know, to blow off a little steam. But-" He stretches the word, musing. "I guess you're all set with the redhead in your cell every night."

They both look over at Robin, he's uncomfortable under the scrutiny and his cheeks are stained a tomato red. This is not the first time one of the other prisoners has incorrectly assumed that Brendan owns Robin or they have come to some kind of agreement. It is the first time anyone has every said it to Brendan's face, but he knows the boy never denies it. The though of that kind of 'arrangement' makes Brendan sick, but he can't hold it against the boy because it is keeping him safe.

He decides not to deny it either.

"Wait? Don't tell me you don't know about the lovely Ste Hay." He say's addressing Robin for the first time.

"Do not say his name in this place." Brendan commands with a growl.

Steven is his weakness, time and time again people have exploited this fact. Brendan doesn't want to take the chance of anyone in here overhearing his name and going after him.

Warren simply laughs.

"And I'm willing to bet 'young Steven' doesn't know about your very own personal plaything, here. Never took you for a philanderer."

Brendan's had enough.

"If you must know, I had the pleasure of a visit from a wee Scottish fox."

Brendan watches as confusions sets in to Warren's face, his features becoming heavy and pruned. He can see the very moment when realisation takes over, then anger.

"Joel? Joel!" He rages, standing up and rounding on Brendan.

Brendan always found Warren's clumsy form of fury and intimidation to be ridiculous – especially twenty pounds over weight in a puffa jacket, he looked more like an over stuffed pig – and ineffective. Brendan put's down the spoon of apple crumble he was just about to start and stand to face Warren. He looks over his right shoulder to see Robin standing in his defence.

The kid is finally growing a set of balls. He rethinks this, maybe they're making a reappearance. He took the life of three men and then owned up to it, that was pretty ballsy.

"What are you doing with my son, Brady?"

Brendan eyebrows quirk and there is a bemused smile on his face. "You sent him to me, remember? Like a lamb to fucking slaughter." Brendan laughs. "When you signed over your half of the club you sent a fox into a wolf's den."

"You leave my boy alone."

"He came here of his own accord. I don't know what it is, but these young boys, they flock to me."

"Bullshit! My Joel is straight." Warren screams, spit flying.

"There's where you're wrong, he's my Joel. He's my Joel because the boy never had a father, and he was just looking for someone to fill that void. I was there for him."

"If you mess with him, I'll-"

"You'll what?" Brendan doesn't even wait for a reply, because he knows there is nothing he can do. "Sit down Warren." The man doesn't move, aware that they've gained an audience and wants to save face. "Sit." Brendan repeats, his hand on Warren's shoulder.

He finally concedes.

"Robin give us a moment."

"Are you…" he catches himself quickly, not wanting to speak out of turn he changes the question to a statement. "…sure."

The boy picks up an apple and heads back to the cell. At the canteen door he takes one more cautious look at the two men, head full of questions.

-8-

Brendan starts on his apple crumble, taking the time to think of a way to gain from the situation. Warren is seething, but waiting silently for him to make a move and their audience has lost interest. That is with the exception of one man, watching Brendan from the far corner of the room.

"Joel can become a non-issue."

"What do you want?"

"That guard." He tilts his head towards the man in the corner, now talking to a college.

"Philips?"

"What's his deal?"

"Crockets guard in this place. Got anything valuable, he'll take it. Need CCTV tape to go missing, he's your guy. Want to corner another inmate alone, he'll sort it. Anything you want in this place, it yours for a price. Why'd you ask?"

"He's been watching me." Brendan's felt the mans eye's follow him around for days now. At first he thought it was paranoia, finally feeling the effects of confinement. But everywhere he goes this Philips is there. He had never even noticed the man before but now it's like they are following identical schedules. "I don't like it."

"I knew you were arrogant, but really? I don't think he swings that way." Warren's laughter dies down when he sees the irritated look on Brendan's face. "You're being serious? You think he wants something?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you."

"Want me to get a few of my boys on it, suss him out?"

"No, I can handle it." Brendan decides, not wanting to use up a favour.

-8-

He returns to the cell, with plans of collecting Robin and heading to the leisure room.

"I'm ready to tell you." His cellmate blurts as so as he steps over the threshold.

The boy is pacing, chewing at his bottom lip, hands twisting together. The same nervous habits as-

"Tell me what?" Brendan asks sitting on his bed.

"Why I did it."

"Killed those men?"

"Yeah, that." He exhales and sits opposite Brendan on his own bed.

Robin doesn't say anything. He's looking straight ahead at Brendan, but doesn't see him. Brendan can tell he is stuck in tornado of some hellish memory so leaves him to compose himself. To fight back to reality.

But the minutes tick by, and the boy hasn't moved an inch, has barley even blinked. The colour has drained from his face – which is saying something given his normal paper white, pale complexion – and his fists are clenched tightly.

"Kid?" Brendan repeats the word over and over, getting loader each time.

He's about to get up and make contact, shake him or something, anything to make sure he's still mentally in this room. That he isn't lost to some darkness within.

"I have an older sister. Had a sister. I never knew my mum, she died giving birth to me. But I had Lacey-" He smiles sadly at his sisters name "-she was only six years older than me, but she was always there to look after me. Made sure I never missed out on anything, threatened any bullies, she even taught me to ride a bike. She made sure I never felt like I was missing anything, not having a mother. One night when she was nineteen she was babysitting me, she had a guy round and told me to stay up stairs, didn't want me cramping her style." He let's out a hollow mirthless laugh, that send a shiver down Brendan's back. "The computer was in her room, I was in there playing Sims but when I heard footsteps, too heavy to be hers I hid in the wardrobe. The guy, Charlie De-Lisi had carried her up and put her to bed. I remember before she passed out completely she was slurring and could hardly keep her head up. Not long after, couldn't have been more that ten minutes I heard foots steps down stairs and I hid in the wardrobe again. Charlie returned with two other guys. Matthew Jones. Thomas Gibson." Brendan doesn't miss the pure hatred in the boy's voice when he says those names. "They took turns like it was a game, and it went on for what felt like hours. I hid with my eyes squeezed shut and my hands over my ears trying to block it out. But when I started to cry I had to cover my mouth to hide my sobs. I could hear them then. The noises they made as they violated my sister, the revolting things they said about her, and the jokes they made. They finally left and I crawled in bed with my barley conscious sister and waited for my dad to come home."

Silent tears fall from the boy's eyes, he folds his knees into his body and hides his face in the crook of his elbow, rocking back and forth slowly. Brendan remembers what he went through, what no child should go through especially by their own father. But what this boy is describing is unimaginable. He would go through it all a million times over, in every life time to come, if he could save Cheryl from ever knowing that kind of pain. He doesn't know what to say, his words have always let him down. Instead he stands, ready to show the affection that he is unable to vocalise-

"Don't, just let me finish." Robin looks up at him, his eyes rimmed red. "If you're kind to me now, I'm going to start crying again and will never stop. Anyway, once you hear how this story ends I doubt you'll fell any compassion towards me."

Brendan thought he already knew how this story was going to end, had pieced it together. Three boys came into his home and stole his sister's innocence like it was nothing. Even though Robin is the younger sibling he felt that need that Brendan knows so well, the need to protect his sister and so he killed them. Brendan more than anyone could understand that, he can't figure out why the lad would think other wise.

The look of his cellmates face tells Brendan there is more to come. He sits down.

"The next morning we went to the police station. I remember Lacey wanted to take a shower, to scrub clean but dad said she couldn't. She clawed at her skin the entire drive. They took us through the motions. Rape kit, DNA samples, photographs, I made a statement, then my sister's but she couldn't remember a thing. I always though Charlie had drugged her, it would explain why she was out of it. But, it had been hours and any traces had already left her system. They only found two sets of DNA, Matt's and Tom's. I knew Charlie was there, but there was no evidence and the other two boys denied he had any involvement. Charlie was from a good family you see, respected, buckets of money. But I still remember all the things he said while he was doing it, him egging on the other two, I can still hear his voice in here." He digs at his temple, face violently screwed up. "No one would listen, I was only thirteen they said my mind was playing tricks on me. I'd seen him earlier and I was superimposing the Charlie from my memory into the 'incident', that's what they called it." He let out that grim laugh again, eyes crazed. "And anyway 'A nice boy like him would never do a thing like that.'" Brendan knows Robin is repeating someone's ill-conceived words, he also knows given the chance or under the right circumstances anyone was capable of anything. "The other two boys went to trial and got a measly 18 months, out in time for their 21st birthdays. It was seeing Charlie that did it, he was on her Uni course. Went on, bold as brass like nothing had ever happened. Lacey couldn't handle it, she dropped out of school, wouldn't leave the house, or see people and she started cutting. She was breaking down. Over a year of no improvement and a few suicide attempts dad couldn't cope, his health was deteriorating by then. He wanted her to go to a Psychiatric hospital or something. As soon as she heard that it was like a switch flipped inside, she was back to the sister I knew. But as their release dates got closer, she started to slip. Nothing you'd notice if you weren't looking or didn't know her well enough, but every now and again the mask would fall. It was two weeks before Matt was to be released and she slit her wrists again. But it wasn't the shallow horizontal cuts she used to make, they were two deep vertical cuts up both arms. I found her in the bathtub bleeding out, the water was so red. Doctor's said it was a miracle she made it, everyone was s relieved and full of joy. It's like they couldn't see how angry she was, angry that she had been saved. I was fifteen by then almost sixteen, and I guessed she though I was old enough to understand. Or maybe she was just being selfish, because she didn't have anyone else to turn to. I didn't want to do it, I swear I held out as long as I could. But she wouldn't stop begging me, she said she'd never stop trying and at least this way it would be painless and quick. I didn't want to be without her but she just wanted to be with mum and I realised my sister had died a long time a go. I was weak." He says more to himself than to Brendan. "I guess the answer to you question is yes."

"What question?" Brendan manages to croak out, dumfounded.

"Did I kill any women? The answer is a yes. I stole a lethal dose of morphine from a supply room, but when it came to it I bottled out. Like that night I hid, I just froze and she had to do it herself. I sat with her, holding her hand… it was quicker than I had expected. No one asked any questions, just assumed her body had given out. Two weeks later Matt made parole, Tom a few months after that. They both moved away, but they were living it up in these swanky apartments with German cars and women hanging off their arms. Over the years I hadn't thought much about Charlie, but I knew then how he kept his name clean. After that I started planning."

"Their murders?"

"My redemption."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: a break in


	7. I Plead Guilty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Table talk

 

**9th May 2013**

"Honey I'm home." Brendan sings cheerfully.

He walks into the cell, taking the cup of tea and a half eaten rich tea biscuit out of his celly's hands.

"Just help yourself then."

"I miss dinner, a man's gotta eat." Brendan shrugs, gulping back half the contents of the cup in one go.

Used to his food being taken at this point, he stands to make himself another cup of tea without any further complaint. Brendan is behaving unprecedentedly casual, as if today is just like any other day. Robin wants to follow suite, but he can't hold it in any longer, needs to know what happened.

"How did it go?" He speaks with his back turned to Brendan, eyes unwaveringly set on the steam hiss of the boiling mini-kettle.

"It went."

"It went?" He questions, idly playing with the tea bag now floating in his mug. "Bren today was the last day of court, you have to have more to say than _'it went'_."

Shortly after being arrested Brendan had been denied bail, expectedly. On the 7th of May his time on remand at HM Liverpool Prison has come to end and his summons date had finally arrived. The last three days have been spent in a courtroom, with journalists, barristers in wigs and a district judge sitting sure and pompous on his throne. His case was also open to the public, morbid freaks, groupies and those there simple to see the murderer punished.

For the first two days the Bench heard the entire prosecution case and then arguments from the prosecution and defence before ruling on the issue. Today, the last day of his case Brendan returned to court for sentencing, the Bench taking into consideration the police reports, along with evidence and witness statements.

"The Magistrates Court has concluded that as a more serious offence my case should be committed to the Crown Court, to be dealt with by a judge and jury."

"When?"

"Three months."

"Three months? Three more months of fucking limbo?"

"Apparently not serious enough to for a speedy trial."

Prisoners such as Brendan and Robin with longer sentences refer to time on remand as limbo. It is a time of unknown, oblivion. The only thing you know unquestionably is you will be serving time, you will not be found to be 'not guilty' and 'time served' isn't on the cards. Prison will be your home for an extensive period of time, but the justice system hasn't seen fit to tell you for how long exactly. Not having a release date, not knowing how much time you have left, it can be torture.

Jim had warned Brendan that this out come was more than likely, especially as he has only pleaded guilty to two of the five murders, Danny and his father. Jim was adamant on arguing to reduce the other three charges, in order to avoid a full life order. He was still attempting to claim Involuntary Manslaughter for Mick, Assisting Suicide for nana Flo and Self-Defence in the case of Walker. Meaning a drawn out cases, a jury, a High Court Judge and additional time on remand – more time in limbo.

After spending an extraordinarily long amount of time making a cup of tea he no longer has any desire to consume, Robin turns to face Brendan. The man looks fine, calm almost but Robin knows this had to be getting to him. His dad had insisted on spending all his savings on a legal team, who had petitioned the court for additional time in order to build a strong defence. This meant that he had spent more time on remand than most, with months to go still.

It may seem strange or hard to understand but a sense of clam over takes a man when he find out how many years, months and days he has. It's a type of finality, you have a release date and can just concentrate on doing you time. Brendan has been robbed of this.

Robin tips the tea down the drain, a better idea springing to mind.

"Follow me." The younger man instruct, in the most commanding voice he can muster.

Brendan raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

"You constantly give me orders, _'boy follow'_ and I never ask any questions. For once in your life please do as you're told." Brendan doesn't look convinced. "Trust me." He implores.

"This better be good."

"It will be." He grins.

-8-

It's late in the day, and the halls are quiet as most of the inmates are in the leisure room or already in their cells for the night. Robin vigilantly treads the familiar path to the kitchen, avoiding any guards with Brendan following.

"The kitchen?" Brendan questions. "See when I take you for a walk it's for a reason, to teach you something or pass on wisdom. This is a locked door."

"Oh ye of little faith." Robin smiles, taking out a set of keys from his jean pocket.

"You stole the keys?" Brenda asks, almost impressed.

"No, I was promoted to head of the kitchen, After what happened with Adil."

"Who's Adil?" Brendan has only bothered to learn the names of three guys in the six weeks of his incarceration.

"The Turk." Not getting any sort of recognition from Brendan, despite working along side the man, Robin continues. "Anyway, he's been smuggling in contraband, booze mostly. Apparently they arrested is supplier a few weeks back, found where the hooch was made, found out how it was all getting in, stored in cleaning bottles. Traced it all back to poor Adil." He puts the key in the lock and turns it. "Abracadabra!"

-8-

"Sit." Robin instructs.

Brendan sighs but does as he is told, and sits on one of the worktops. Robin climbs up onto the counter and reaches behind the extractor above the cooker. A half full plastic gallon bottle and two mugs in hand, he sits on the worktop across from Brendan.

"I don't do cheap, toxic, counterfeit hooch."

"This is Adil's person stash." Robin informs him while filling both mugs, "Top shelf bourbon."

"Now you're talking my language." Brendan smirks, reaching out for one of the mugs. "Sláinte."

"Cheers."

They clink their cups and both down a big mouthful, Robin coughing at the burn.

"Hungry?" Robin enquires after a moment of silence.

Brendan doesn't answer, just gives him a look that says 'do you really need to ask?'. No, he doesn't. Robin downs the remaining of his drink before going into the walk in fridge to gather eggs, milk and bread. Fifteen minutes later a late supper of French toast with lots of left over meat is ready. One portion much bigger than the other.

"If you want it you have to tell me what your lawyer said." Robin tells him, placing both plates to the side, standing in front of them to obscure Brendan's view.

"I could snap you in half without breaking a sweat." Brendan tells him, challenge in his voice.

"Then who would make that chicken and mushroom pie you like so much?"

"Extortion now, is it?"

"I learned from the best."

Brendan nods ever so slightly, conceding to the kid's demands. Robin grins as he tops up both mugs and Brendan fetches eating utensils.

Robin looks over at Brendan as they finally sit to eat. "Going to crown court, that's a good thing right?"

"How'd you figure?"

"Well you're shelling out all that money for a fancy lawyer-"

"Jim Mcginn is more of a master illusionist, conjuror of fairy tales, a 'truth' easy for the jury to buy. It will be convoluted and scandalous, by the time he's done they won't know which way is up."

"But he can get you less time, right?"

Brendan thinks about it, that's what he wanted, the reason for all this time, money and effort. He doesn't want to die in prison. But now after spending these weeks in prison without his loved ones, he's not sure if there is any point.

"That's the plan. Forty, maybe thirty-five years instead of life."

He'll be at least seventy before he gets out, the world will have changed by then, evolved. His boys will be middle aged by then with kids of their own, he may even have great-grandchildren. Cheryl will have moved on and Steven, Steven is so young and he still has a whole lifetime ahead of him.

A life without Brendan.

"But what will be left for me?" he considers aloud.

Robin doesn't answer, it's a rhetorical question. Brendan's talking to himself more than anything. They eat the rest of their meal in silence.

"I had a letter from my lawyers today, I've got a court date: July 11th."

"What is that, the Thursday or Friday?"

"Thursday."

"Mines the following Monday." Brendan tells him. "Lawyer says I'll definitely be transferred to high security in Manchester."

"Ditto."

Brendan looks up at the young boy in front of him, so fast that he almost gives himself whiplash. "Kid." Brendan mutters in such a low voice, it almost sounds like a condolence. Like 'I heard about –insert family member here– I'm sorry about your loss'. "Lawyers write that in the letter?"

"No, I've always known."

"You never said anything?"

"Not saying it out loud kind of makes it less real. But I've got a date now, there's no pretending like I won't happen. But you'll be there too."

' _But you'll be there too'_ , by this Robin means that he and Brendan can get through it together. They can be there for one and other, for support. Usually Brendan would tell him to stop acting like a fucking girl, but this boy is on the edge of cliff. He's been holding it together for months, but he could fall apart any second. Prison can break the strongest of men, God knows it almost had Brendan's first stint inside. Manchester's category A prison makes this lower security facility they currently reside in comparable to a weekend st Butlin's.

"Yeah, I'll be there too."

He says because the boy needs it, he needs it too. They drink some more, letting the moment pass.

"How much time do your lawyers think you'll get."

"Life, no parole." Robin lets a breathy, humourless laugh.

It's no funny.

"Life?" Brendan repeats shocked.

Yes, Robin has killed three people but after what they did to his sister and having to witness it. Surely there should be some kind of extenuating circumstances to take into account?

"Lawyers not claiming diminished responsibility?"

"After my arrest I spent the first three weeks in psychiatric hospital. Lawyers brought in doctor after doctor, a slew of specialists looking for just one person to diagnose me as criminally insane. But alas the search was futile, every single one of them deemed me to be mentally competent. The insanity defence isn't going to work."

Brendan is not entirely sure living life out in a mental institution is any better than life in prison. Sure it's safer, but you'd be drugged up to your eyeballs twenty-four seven, your brain permanently shut down. But in prison your brain may as well be turned off, stuck in a box like a caged animal, living by somebody else's rules. What time to wake up, when to eat, even when to exercise. Mental prison or physical prison? It's a lose-lose situation.

Brendan could spend all night debating the pros and cons between prion and a psychiatric hospital, but it's beside the point.

A jury is made up of twelve normal people, normal people have a tendency to sympathy in cases such as this. Thirteen-year-old boy witnesses the gang rape of his sister, sister dies, boy now age nineteen goes on to kill said rapists. Any juror with basic human compassion would be grasping at anything that could stop them finding him guilty beyond reasonable doubt. Even if he was found guilty, because he is guilty, he did do it. Even if the evidence in its entirety was indisputable Brendan still can't imagine a judge actually giving him life, let alone life in a maximum-security facility.

Judges like to make an example of men like Brendan, he's a thug, known criminal, cold-blooded murderer and shows no visible remorse. Whereas Robin Watson is a teenage boy, that went through a mentality traumatic childhood and as a result took the life of the three men responsible. Judges don't make examples of _boys_ like Robin, he will certainly win over the hearts' of the public making it bad press.

"Premeditation, planning, abduction and sadistic conduct. Basically I hit the hat-trick, winning me a whole life order." Robin says, as if reading Brendan's mind.

"Why bother shelling out all that money for your fancy lawyers?" Brendan asks, because the boy seems resigned to his fate.

"For dad's conscience more than anything, he thinks he let me down, that all this is his fault. No one's letting me walk the streets anytime soon, I know it and the lawyers know it."

"Enough with the pity party, we have 30 to life for that." Brendan jest as he fills their cups.

They spend the next few hours downing a little under two litters of bourbon whiskey between them. Robin feels almost normal, talking and laughing like two olds friends catching up in a bar. Something unfamiliar to a prison happens: time is forgot and before they know it is edging towards 10pm.

_buzz buzz buzz_

Both men look up at the speakers in the corner of the room and then at each other. The buzzer is a warning, indicating that there are three minutes till the end of day roll call, just three minuets till they are supposed to be standing out side their cell ready for count. And they're here, in the kitchen, not even in the same building and drunk off their tits.

Both men stand up, running to the door before Robin heads back, scrambling to put the whiskey back in it's hiding place.

"Come on, come on!" Brendan screams, holding open the door.

They sprint the entire way, almost slamming into people, skidding around corners and rushing through corridors with inmates already lined up. When they finally reach their own corridor they almost run straight past the cell in their haste. Luckily the guards haven't reached them yet, some sort of dispute holding them up.

"Gum." Robin demands.

"What?"

"We stink of booze." He laughs. "Gum!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Robin the entrepreneur


	8. I Have an Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin's been planning

**13th May**

It's late evening and both Brendan and Robin are sat reading, Schindler's Ark and Great Expectations, respectively, Bob Dylan playing softly in the background. From the corner of his eye Brendan can see the fidgeting body of the freckled boy. Over the last half an hour Robin has re-read the same paragraph, over and over, but has yet to take in a single word. He is too worried, anxiety seeping through into his marrow.

He's only been in charge of the kitchen for four days and already things are changing. He is known around the prison as Brady's boy, and no one laid a finger on him, in any capacity. But every crew and chancer wants control of the kitchen, by having the keys Robin has become an obstacle, something in their way.

You own the kitchen, you pretty much own the prison. Most things smuggled into the prison came in through the kitchen. Adil and his Turkish predecessors held it for twelve years, collectively. Their organisation was tight and nobody had managed to take them down, those who had tried got burnt. Literally.

At first, when word got out the Governor had put Robin in charge people had assumed that Brendan would have something going. Even Robin had expected him to want to set something up, but apparently the thought hasn't even crossed his mind. The only way in which Brendan has taken advantage of the situation is to sit around snacking, instead of actually carrying out any of his duties.

With the rate he eats robin is surprised Brendan isn't the size of a small house.

With the kitchen connections going unused, the entire prison almost dry of liquor and cigarettes Robin is very aware it won't be long before someone makes a move. In fact, with all the new faces in the kitchen yesterday Robin has his suspicions that the blacks have already started. And while Brendan was at mass this morning, a guy from Warren's crew had come to see him, failing to maintain any sort of subtlety.

"Brendan, can I speak to you?"

"I don't know. Can you?" Brendan doesn't look away from Schindler's Ark.

"May I speak to you?"

"Make it quick kid." He turns the page.

"I want to start running things out of the kitchen."

"Things?" Brendan folds the corner of the page and puts the book aside, his attention peaked. _"Thing_ as in illegal prison imports?"

"Yes"

"Not a chance."

"I wasn't asking your permission, it's my kitchen."

Brendan can't help but smile, the boy is trying to assert his authority. He has been listening, learning.

"I just thought I could use your connections." Robin continues.

"My connections?"

"You used to own a bar right? You must know someone who can get their hands on cheap boozes."

"Yeah I can think of a few people. But I ain't getting involved and neither are you."

For Brendan that's the end of the discussion, he returns to his book. Across the room Robin does not appreciate being told what to do, he is normally a chicken shit, but he's tired of Brendan telling him to 'man up' and to not let the other inmates intimidate him when it's Brendan who treats him like a child. So he finds the courage to use what he knows about Brendan against him.

"Fine you don't want in, I'm sure Warren will be more than glad to help." He says, returning to his own book.

He counts down in his head -

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

"Foxy?" Right on queue, Brendan's voice is strained and irritated.

"Yeah."

"If he knows what's good for him he'll stay away from you."

He doesn't miss how it sounds like Brendan cares. He knows Brendan is right, he doesn't trust Warren's nice guy act for one second and knows if he were to get into business with the man it wouldn't be long till there was a metaphorical knife in his back. Or maybe an actual knife. So yes he'll stay away from Warren, but Brendan doesn't need to know that.

"He's already had Smokey, one of his guys come talk to me."

This rubs Brendan the wrong way, Warren is obviously getting brave and the man doesn't take small steps. If he has a plan he's going to come charging at Brendan like a bull in a china shop. If he wants to keep the distance between his young cellmate and Warren he's going to have to get involved.

Robin takes note of Brendan pinching the bridge of his nose, shaking his head like he's going against what he thinks is best. He knows he has him.

"You're in?" The boy enquires filled with hope.

"Yeah I'm in, but we don't do alcohol. The last guy was bringing in gallons of hooch, made fools of the guards, the Governor is cracking down. It's going to be near impossible to get a drop of alcohol into this place."

"Half the prisons is bladded before noon, we can't not provide it. Have you seen all the black guys that have transferred onto kitchen duties-"

"You got something against our fellow inmates of African and Caribbean heritage? Robin, your prejudice both surprises and disappoints me."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." He knows even when talking about the most serious topic Brendan can't drop the habits of sarcasm and generally just winding people up. "We're both in here for another three months, if Warren and his guys, the Polish, one of the black crews or whoever-the-fuck, comes after the kitchen the two of us won't be able to stop them. Especially if we're not giving people what they want, booze. People are going to start realising you're not all that scary."

"Not scary? Well I've never been accused of that before. I'm offended, actually offended." Brendan quips, hand on chest.

"Can you just be serious for a second."

"Two weeks ago you wouldn't say boo to a mouse, now you want to smuggle alcohol and God knows what else into a prison. Sorry if I don't think this is _serious_."

"Brendan, I _am_ being serious. You're just one guy with a bony carrot top as a sidekick. Adil was basically untouchable because he supplied the booze. We need something that makes us indispensable, an enterprise where we get people working for us, so we can start our own crew."

Our own crew? The kid is making giant, ambitious leaps.

"I'm not looking to make any waves."

Brendan jus wants to sever his time, dwell in his own misery and die in peace.

"We don't really have a fucking choice." Robin raises his voice in frustration, earning him a sharp look from Brendan, which reads ' _watch your tone_ '. He exhales to calm himself down. "All I'm saying is we give up the kitchen now, we're going to look weak. You're going to look weak, Brendan."

Brendan thinks it over. He knows he's being played, that Robin has chosen worlds that will have the biggest impact on a man like him - a prideful man - but he has a point. Rumours and exaggerated stories alone won't be able to sustain the Brendan Brady untouchable force field forever.

"We start bringing in the basics." He concedes. "But not alcohol, the old Russian priest is mixing up moonshine in his cell. We're not going in competition with a man of God."

"Pharmacy then?" He offers up as an alternative unique selling point, they have to have something people can't get through the hardships of daily prison life without.

"Kai's got the drugs covered."

"Yeah but his release date is coming up and the guy owes you a favour right? Said so himself and _you_ said it could be useful to have a guy like that on side. You get in with him now, you can take over once he's gone."

"I'm not selling drugs." He thinks of Walker. Drugs have caused one too many problems in Brendan's life.

"Hear me out. Kai and his people have weed, meth, heroin and cocaine covered. We offer a more specialised selection, ketamine, prescription pills and that."

Brendan simple offers a shake of his head, returning to his book again.

-8-

**18th May**

Brendan makes a few phone calls and within two days they've got cigarettes, mobile phones and anything else a prisoner could think up hidden away in the kitchen, but no alcohol. The Russian priest, in for stealing money meant for building schools in Israel has recruited some of the older inmates. They are producing a steading stream of jailhouse hooch to keep the alcoholics satisfied. Robin knows he should be fine with this, especially as he gets 15% of their profits for providing the ingredients, but he isn't.

He wants to secure his safety in this place and assumes Brendan doesn't or can't understand that because he can look after himself. He knows Brendan won't always be there to protect him, it is one of the first things he said to him.

They're eating lunch, Brendan enthusiastically so, Robin catering the menu around his cravings.

"Condoms."

A fork full of macaroni and cheese half way to his mouth, Brendan stops, blinking a few times.

"Condoms?"

"Yeah, condoms. It was a straight no to drugs and now alcohol is off the table, so condoms."

"Kid, I've feel like I've missed a crucial step in your thought process. How have you gone from Class A's and counterfeit liquor to condoms?"

"It makes perfect sense."

"Clearly." Brendan notes, voice dead pan.

Brendan continues with the pasta, laughing to himself at the ludicrous idea of a stealth operation to smuggle condoms into a prison.

"STI's are running rampant through the prison. Syphilis, HIV, Chlamydia, but people keeping having unprotected sex. Some forced into it." He doesn't look Brendan in the eye when he says this, what used to happen to Robin is something they do not bring up. "And sickbay doesn't provide protection because sex between inmates is prohibited. It's genius really, who doesn't love the guys that stops them from getting warts on their prick."

"If it's such a brilliant idea why has no one thought about it? Why is no one else bringing in condoms?"

Checkmate.

-8-

**21st May**

For the next three days Robin hardly says a word to Brendan, who assumes he's in a sulk because his 'geniuses' plan had been dismissed. When in fact, Robin has his mind set on condom distribution. He'd even carried out market research, well as close as you could get to market research in a prison.

He started a rumour that free condom's would be available and observed the uproar when this was proven to me untrue.

He just had to convince Brendan some how.

When he brings it up again they are walking to the showers after a session at the gym. Brendan is exhausted after taking up boxing with one of the other inmates as well as running on the treadmill and lifting. This is the perfect time to catch him off guard, his electrolytes are off and he'll be hungry.

"No one has bothered smuggerling condoms on a massive scale because there's not a tone of money in it." The young boy starts.

"This, again? We've talked about this, put it to rest."

"No you talked, and shut me down. Will you just hear me out?" He's almost pleading.

The kid is passionate, Brendan will give him that much. He figures there's no harm in indulging the boy.

"If theres no money in it why should we bother?"

"We're not doing it for the money."

He says it like it's the most obvious thing, a touch of glee to his voice because he's spent three days coming up with an argument that Brendan will not be able to dispute.

"We're not?"

"The reason we started running things throught the kitchen was to avaoid a play on us. Someone takes over the kitchen in a few days a we look weak. Right now we have a manopoly, we control 95% of the market and people will want in on that. If a takeover happens we don't have the muscle or the customer loyalty to block it."

"Did you get a BA Honors in Business and Managment while I was at chaple this morning?"

"Business and Economics A-Levels. That's besides the point, we do this to keep hold of our 95%. We're doing it to stay on top. Everyone in here is having sex-" They exchange a look. "- Well almost everyone, and there's a big problem with STI's. It spreads like wild fire in here. We start providing this much needed service we'll be like Microsoft."

"Microsoft?

"Yeah they're the market leader and they wouldn't be able to keep hold of market dominance without being extremely successful at creating value for their consumers. Our entire operation has to be efficient, only high quality products and that way we can justify a rise in price. But with the condoms we basically give them away, offer what should be a prison essential, at a low price, keep people happy and safe, they won't mind paying a little more for their fags and no other crew will be able to make a move. The other prisoners wouldn't allow it."

The lad knows his stuff, he reckons if Robin hadn't ended up in this place he would have achieved great things. It's a shame.

"What's that look for?" Robin asks, feeling self conscious.

"Nothing you just remind me off my old business partner. Not Foxy." He adds at the horrified look on Robin's face. "He also had all these big ideas." Joel ran on passion and the determination to prove people wrong, to prove Brendan wrong. And while Robin has that same passion, it's driven by pure intelligence, belief in himself. " You've convinced me."

Robin's face lights up, like a child opening his presents on christmas morning.

"Thank you Brendan, you are not going to regret this!"

"This is your plan, I have your back but the logistics are up to you."

Robins face drops, he has no idea how to set something like this up.

-8-

**28th May**

Robin spends a week figuring out the 'logistics'. Hour after hour passes and the only thing on his mind is how on earth is he going to pull this off? He thinks about it rationally, it's like any business, the first step in providing a product is finding a supplier for the product. It has to be economically viable, especially at the low prices he's planning on charging.

Brendan's guy gets mobile phones in bulk, bought from shipping container raiders. While a bored, sticky fingered tech-geek shop-lifts hand held game consoles. The cigarettes are dirt cheap from Germany. How can Robin get his hands on condoms at wholesale price or less?

He realises there's not much he can do locked behind bars, but it also hits him that anyone could buy condoms in bulk. They're not illegal or particularly expensive on the outside world, and he figures the more he buys the bigger the discount. In the end he goes to his dad for help, explaining the plan over their next visit. While hesitant he understands and agrees to help.

He tells Brendan that he had his dad do some research and he's been in contact with the same company that supplies Poundland with their condoms. He can't decipher if the expression on his face is one of disappointment because he went to his father or impressed that he's got a plan. He presses on regardless, because he's impressed with himself. He tells Brendan that with the amount they are buying they can get them for twenty seven pence apiece.

"And how many did you order?"

"Five thousand."

"Five thousand?"

Robin had spent a entire night deciding how many to buy. The prison had a population of 1212 at last count, from what he can tell only a third of the inmates are sexually active. With fortnightly deliveries it works out to twelve condom for half a month, per inmate.

But the look Brendan is giving him over his morning tea is making him unsure of his calculations. He isn't sure if it is an under estimation or vast over order. He explains how he got to this number to Brendan, but now he's just shaking his head.

"That's just to start with, we can readjust the next order depending on how many we sell."

"Five thousand condoms. That's not baggies of coke easy to hid and get rid of if there's a cell check, or booz hidden inside bleach bottles, where do you plan to store them? How are you even going to get them in?"

He hadn't thought of that, how much space would five thousand condoms takes up? Brendan had spots all over the kitchen where he hid things, packets of cigarets inside 10kg bags of rice, a dildo on a top shelf of the walk in freezer behind the froze peas and mobiles taped under the sink. How many bags of rice would he need? Too many.

And he hadn't even gotten to the stage in his planning of brining in the condoms.

"Five thousand condoms at twenty seven pence a pop." Brendan wasn't done, slowly letting out the air in Robin's bubble. "That is one thousand, three hundred and fifty pounds exactly. How do you plan on paying, you a prison, I'm guessing with not much in terms of finical wealthy, how are you going to pay a legitimate business?"

Brendan may have been against this at the beginning, reluctant to get involved but he is disappointed. Disappointed that there are so many holes in his young cellmates plan, he was hoping he would succeed.

This gets Brendan thinking, coming up with ways to get this plan on its legs again.

-8-

**30th May**

Robin seems to have give up on the condom idea, but Brendan can now see the merit in it. The boy is pretty persuasive. Brendan initiates casual conversations with a laid back guard, discovering condoms are high up the list of contraband people try and smuggle in. One guy stuffed thirty up his anus, an over weight prisoner stuck them between his fat rolls, and family members hide them in the binding of hardback books. He laughs with the guards over the idiocies of these prisons, but on the way back to his cell he can't help but think of it as a challenge. To succeed where all these others have failed, and not just to smuggle in a few condoms for personal use, but five thousand of them for the masses.

He makes a phone call to Joel, requesting a visit. Robin has set up the initial stages, the next step is getting the condoms through the prison gates. Joel's haulage firm could be useful.

He knows Joel has plans to become a law abiding citizen so he makes sure the boy knows there is no pressure. In or out, he has to do what's right for him, but the sly smile that spreads over the Scotsman'd face tells him Joel is finding the good life boring. The boy jumps at the chance and is more concerned with what will happen to Brendan if he's caught. If they're found they'll get confiscated sure, he may even get sometime in isolation but he's got less than three months here, what's the worse they can do?

Joel points out that it could hurt his trial, Brendan plays it down, doesn't mention he doesn't have high hopes. He's being realistic. He tells the boy how they will change the fruity and veg supplier, Joel's firm will deliver it, condoms lining the cardboard boxes. He gives the boy the contact information for Robin's father so they can sort out what Brendan and Robin can't from inside the jail.

His next visit is to the Russian priest. Although the prison has an actual priest from the local parish, Vlad, the Russian is in charge of the day to day running of the non-denominational chapel. It doesn't take much convincing to get him to agree to hide the condoms, or anything else that Brendan may need hiding. As long as Brendan and Robin give him a discount on moonshine supplies. The old guy drives a hard bargain, driving Brendan down to 7.5%.

Apparently the guard that carries out the chapel checks is less than efficient in his searches, turning a blind eye for a price. The oldies have been able to hide litters of their moonshine in plain sight. After his talk with Vlad, Brendan pays the partially sighted guard a visit. Joel made some a good points, if can avoid spending time in the hole he'll take it.

The guard agrees to ensure that what will now be referred to as "communion bread" - because he has no interest in knowing - will make the long journey from the kitchen to the chapel un-interruption. He won't look too closely on his regular check of the chapel and will let them know if someone else is to carry out the checks. All for a price of course.

-8-

**9th June**

Their business is in full swing, Brendan sorted it so only people they trusted -mostly the friends Robin had made in prison- worked in the kitchen. They are all young-ish boys, that have gone through the same things Robin has, and working for Brendan offered them a certain amount of protection.

Robin had been right about being able to charge what ever they wanted for the other products they provided. People were asking for all sorts now, iPads, strippers and prostitutes brought in as lawyers, one guy asked for an expensive cut of tenderloin, they know Brendan can get it in. Brendan's biggest problem is getting their money out of the prison.

Large amounts of money can't be left around a prisons, a dodgy guard would find it and keep it or an honest guard wold find it and hand it it as evidence to the Governor. If the Governor was to find out about the eleven grand hidden in an emptied and re-weld baked bean tins it will open a line of question Brendan doesn't want to answer.

The other prisoners are also a becoming a problem, they know there is money somewhere and Brendan can feel a storm coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: a good ol' fashioned prison beating


	9. Don't Fuck with Batman and Robin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get out of hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anticipation has a habit to set you up, for disappointment: Arctic Monkeys - The View From The Afternoon

**14th June**

Robin's plan of running and keeping the kitchen consisted of three well thought out components. Demand, loyalty and muscle. They are meeting demand, there is not one man craving a cigarette or a lad going with out his favourite video game. Oddly enough prisoners are loyal customers. People are satisfied, because with Robin what you see is what you got. Word is spreading. As long as you pay the agreed upon amount you will get exactly what you ask for. The only problem is muscle.

That is where Robin suggests Warren and his men came in. To say Brendan is reluctant would be an understatement of massive proportions. He is violently and adamantly against it. It isn't ideal but Robin can't see another way around the issue that hey do need protection.

-8-

On Wednesday afternoons Brendan skipps kitchen duties in favour of watching Night Rider in the leisure room. A group of six or so disgruntled Turkish inmates have been watching and taking note of his and Robins movements and use it to their adavantage. They plan a hit on the kitchen and the chapel, to take back what they saw as righfully their own. They are able to take most of what the priest is hiding but some how Robin and his wafer like merry men manage to hold them off in the kitchen. One lad escapes, frantically running down the prison halls in search of Brendan.

When Brendan reaches the kitchen, there are four of them. Two searching, turning the kitchen upside down for their entire stash, one restraining Robin against a wall and the last just watching.

He doesn't even have time to think before he is reacting, his body taking action before his mind has time to comprehend the consequences. He picks up a frying pan and slams it against the head on the man with his hand around Robin's throat. The impact makes such a noise that every single person freezes, halting in their actions to look at Brendan and the limp body at his feet.

Kaan, the man that had been sitting on a stool, puts down the bag of crisps he was making his way though and toes up to Brendan. More than anything Brendan is just pissed off. All he wants to do is enjoy an episode of Night Rider, he hadn't wanted to get caught up in any of this, yet here he is.

He attractes trouble.

The commotion alertes the guards, who come bursting through the double doors. There's a man knocked out cold on the floor, a lad with his arm broken, Brendan and the leader of the group involved in a stand off and what was found of the kitchen stash in a pile on a table.

Keeping to prison ways nobody says a word. The guards proceed in a search of the entire kitchen, the rest of the stash discovered, of course the guards suspected Brendan but with no one willing to talk they have zero proof, especially with people placing him in the leisure room just minutes before.

The kitchen is no longer a viable place to hide anything and the Turks are gunning for them, after Brendan put their guy in a comma. At this point Brendan has no choice but to ask Warren for his help, there is no way around it. The next morning Robin still has a hand print around his neck, and beyond all this prison kingpin crap he wants to keep the boy safe. There are only three weeks until they are transferred, so really what is he holding onto?

Brendan swallows his pride, ignores Warren's gloating and negotiates the terms of their agrrement.

1) This is not a partnership, Brendan is in change and Warren answers to him.

2) Warren is to paid handsomely for the services he and his men provid.

3) If Warren even thinks about crossing them he would wake up dead.

4) Warren will take over, kitchen, outside connections, the lot, once Brendan is convicted and transfered.

With Kai's release date only days away Warren has been making moves to takeover drugs too. Brendan has an inkling that his plans will not bear fruit. Whether reciding in prison or living as a free man, Kai will still be running the drug game within the four walls of the Leeds Prison. Its is too lucrative for him to just walk away from. Brendan has no clue who will be given the key to the kitchen once Robin has been transferred, but he highly doubts it will be Warren. Warren wants his connections to the outside world, the main one being Joel and his business. Brendan can't figure out how he does it week after week but the kid can get just about anything in unnoticed, what he does know is Joel is never going to agree to work with his father.

In a way he feels sorry for Foxy, things never quite turned out how he hopes. The best laid schemes of mice and men go often awry, and leave us nothing but grief and pain.

-8-

Things have settled since the incident in the kitchen. Warren's men have the numbers and are savages in a fight so the Turkish crew haven't dared retaliate. To be on the safe side nothing is kept in the kitchen or the chapel anymore. Each of the men has his own stash to look after, that way it isn't all kept together and Brendan and Robin are less hands on. The Governor has a stick up his ass about Brendan, having guards search his cell every day, to no avail but it is still an inconvenience.

Robin feels guilty, he had persuaded Brendan to get involved and his quiet prison life had been overturned. The guards want to bring him down, the Turkish are baying for his blood and he has been forced into working with Warren.

-8-

"Boss. Robin. There's been a problem." Archie, one of the men Warren has assigned is stood by their table in the canteen. He is at an awkward distance, knowing how Brendan feels about his space during meal time. The man hesitates waiting from a response, but Brendan doesn't even look away from his meal. "My stash is gone, some ones nicked it."

Robing looks over to Brendan, waiting for a reaction, looking for an indication on how to proceed, but the news isn't enough to distract his attention from his lunch, tuna melt. Robin remembers his words 'this is your plan, you're responsible'.

This is another one of Brendan's lessons, he's on his own.

"Alright mate, I'll get you more stock, keep an ear to the ground, let know if you hear anything."

"Uh, okay. I'll do that." He looks unsure, and obviously unhappy at taking orders from Robin, but with Brendan not getting involved he has no other choice.

"Archibald." Brendan finally looks up from his meal, looks like his only just noticed the conversation between the two men at the table. "Wait." He leans over and whispers instructions to Robin.

"When you speak in that monotone voice, with those stony eyes I can't tell if you're being serious."

"I'm always serious. This was your idea. You need to sort it properly, so no one dares crosses you again. Remember, Perception." that was one of his first lessons, if you're perceived a certain way, true or not, you will be treated accordingly. "You wanted us to be kings of this place, then don't let one of them make jesters of us. "

Robin inhales a large lungful then exhales slowly, psyching himself up to carry out Brendan's instructions. He stands up walking up to Archie, landing a punch on his cheekbone. He stubbles back onto the nearest table, more from the surprise of being punched that the actual punch itself. Robin feels like he's broken his hand, but doesn't let it show as he's gained the attention of the entire canteen. There's no turning back now.

Robin strides to the centre of the room and climbs onto the table, waiting for silence.

"Something has been taken from me, no big deal just I'd like it back. Disclaimer: if I don't get it back the party concerned can expect a visit. Before tonight's roll call would be ideal."

With that he leaves the canteen, Brendan follows, biting into an apple.

They're silent the entire way, when the door to their cell closes behind them Robin lets out all anxiety. "How was I?"

"Show me your hand." Brendan assesses the swollen, red knuckles. "Not sure the well mannered, softly spoken school prefect approach spread fear through a bunch of hardened criminals."

"It works for you."

"It's hard to pull off calm but menacing the way I do. Takes years of practise. All we can do now is wait and see. I don't think it's broken." He runs Robin's hand under freezing cold tape to relieve the inflammation. "I really need to teach you how to throw a punch, kid." Brendan holds him by the base of his neck, smiling down at the shorter man. "Robin, shit's about to hit the fan, we either come out on top or are crushed. The things you've done, been through… fucking remarkable. You'll be fine."

Knowing that Brendan believes in him gives Robin a sense of power, his chest visible puffed out ready for combat. Ready for anything.

-8-

As Brendan had expected the perpetrator of the theft doesn't return the condoms and other stolen items. This foresight means that he spends the day questioning every person he came across, until he finds out who it was. The problem with a cocky thief is he can't keep his mouth shut, needs everybody to know it was him.

After roll call, locked in their cell they spend the better part of the night constructing a plan.

**16th June**

For the first time in their three months sharing the cell it is Robin who wakes up first. He looks himself over in the mirror, he has changed in the last few months. Has filled out, not muscular but getting there. He feels taller, or maybe it's the confidence he's gained which makes him stand taller, sure of himself. His features aren't as soft, his jaw less round and more angular and his eyes have some how hardened.

He picks up Brendan's electrical razor, the one that he has yet to used by it's owner and starts to shave off his floppy ginger tresses.

"Are you ready for today?"

Robin jumpes a little at Brendan's reflection looking back at him. He hadn't even heard him get up.

"I'll have to be, won't I?"

"You set on what you have to do before hand?"

"Yeah, but aren't you coming with me?"

"No, I've got some last minute arrangements to take care of."

Robin closes his eyes, taking in a breath. "Okay, lets go for breakfast then."

"Robin, today it going to go fine. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Look at us, getting all soft like two girls. Lets go do some stupid shit."

-8-

They are two of the first people to get down, the air around the canteen becoming thick with rigidity as the room fills with more people. Every person chances a look over at them as they joined the queue, waiting for something major to kick off.

"Can you feel that?" Brendan asks.

"Feel what?"

"Tension. You can almost feel it in the air."

"They're anticipating our retaliation?" Robin is feeling the pressure, people are watching, waiting.

"But anticipation has the habit of setting you up for disappointment."

"We won't disappoint them. I won't disappoint you."

"Good lad." Brendan smiles, tapping his cheek.

They sit in silence after that. Brendan is calm and collected, enjoying his breakfast putting aside the events that are to take place in the next hour and a half. Robin on the other hand has taken up the habit of fidgeting once again, his leg bouncing under the table and his own breakfast untouched.

Just as the wait is getting too much for Robin, Warren finally walks in. Once he is seated Robin goes over to have private chat, impressed by his own ability to clear the table of Warrens cronies. Or are they his and Brendan's cronies now? He knows better than to let Warren in on the their plans. He keeps it to the bare essentials, when and where a few of his guys are needed.

As they sit, making sure Warren understands exactly what is needed from him, Robin can't help but keep one eye on Brendan. He has some at the table with him, which has never happened. He considered what he had said this morning 'last minute arrangements to take care of'. What does that mean exactly? He recognises the person sat in his seat, Connor, a lad he used to hang out with before Brendan arrived. They are both young, slight, vulnerable and so became the prison bitches. He can't help but worry, why does Brendan need to speak to him, he can't possible be helping with the plan.

-8-

The water stops flowing from the shower heads, the room full of naked men look around for an indication of what is happening. Brendan and Robin walk into the shower room, both fully dressed, Robin dragging a steel pole along the tiled floor as he walks.

His target doesn't see him coming, still has his back to him. He looks at his partner for some sort of confirmation, Brendan nods and so he lands the first blow to Lincoln's ribs. He can feel the vibration from the contact ricochet back down the surface of his pole and he hears the sound of bones cracking.

When he tortured the three men that had raped his sister it had been systematic. He had planned it for months, dreamed about if for years before that, he knew what he was doing to those men, step by step. He had to take them apart, disintegrate enough of what made them people so that they were begging for it to end. Welcoming death, as his sister had done. He didn't take joy from it, the only thing that would have made him truly happy was reversing time so none of it would have happened. No, it was just something he had to do. Justice for his sister.

Right now, in this moment he feels powerful, he savours every swing of his weapon. Lincoln may not be one of the men who had raped him but the man still made his life hell. It was like sport to him, he was the playground bully looking for new, inventive ways to torture Robin.

"He's had enough." Brendan voice cuts through sound of men cheering and flesh being pounded.

He looks up at Brendan, his hand on his shoulder and indicating for him to stand. He looks down at the crumpled man on the floor below him. He's not entirely sure when he drooped the rod in favour of his fists, climbing onto the man and pummelling his face. But his hands are covered in somebody else's blood and his knuckles ache, the evidence is clear.

When the boy doesn't make a move to stand, Brendan physically lifts him by the arm and gives him a fleeting looks that says _'now is not the time to frea_ _k out'._

"You're bleeding." He tells him, pointing at Brendan's lip.

Brendan touches his fingers to his blood stained lips, scoffing at the crimson pigment covering his fingers. He sucks it all up before spitting a mixture of blood and saliva at the quivering man on the floor, at his own feet.

"The fucker head-butted me."

For a moment Robin thought maybe he was the course, got so caught in the moment that he accidentally lashed out. he looks at the man who must be responsible for the small gash on Brendan's lip, recognising him as one of the monsters that terrorised him, a face that still on occasion haunts his dreams.

The boy is confused, and when he looks at Brendan and Connor standing at the front of the crowd he knows he did this for him, because of what that man did to him.

Brendan picks up the steel rod that his cellmate has discarded and uses it to slam down on his own target's hand, crushing almost every bone.

"Fuck I heard that." Robin laughs, still giddy from the adrenaline.

"Don't worry it will heal… eventually." Brendan crouches down, hovering above the man. He whispers, Robin having to strain to hear what is being said. "When you see me in the corridor turn and walk the other way, if I'm in the lunch hall you skip that meal, stay as far as you physically can from me in the yard." He looks up at Robin, who's looking back at him with awe and appreciation. "If you ever look at that kid, or talk about him, if I even sense that you're thinking of him I'm going to come back with a blade and take that filthy hand."

Smiling, Brendan lightly taps the man's face making sure he understands before returning to their original target.

"Lincoln, Lincoln, Lincoln, look at the mess you've gone and got yourself into. Best get yourself cleaned up, we'll be expecting our stock back within the hour." Brendan takes the man's groan as acknowledgment. "Robin I think we've made ourselves clear?"

"Sure looks that way." Robing replies taking a quick glance of the room.

"Fellas, good talk." Brendan nods, before they both exit the showers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: revenge


	10. Depression Is A Good Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin can't figure out what's going on with Brendan

**19th June**

Robin spends the days following the incident in the shower in a daze of sorts. Eyes dead and glazed over, no appetite to speak of, spending the majority of the day in bed. He has isolated himself from the rest of the prison, not unlike how he spent much of his time before Brendan's arrival.

On the third night he drops the pretence and doesn't even get out of bed for dinner. Brendan brings him back a plate of slop – with Robin abandoning his kitchen duties subpar porridge is being served for every meal – so it is actual slop.

"You have to keep your energy up in this place." Brendan tells him, unceremoniously dumping the plastic bowl onto their shared table.

He's not hungry, but he rolls out of his bed, pulls down his hood and picks up the meal. Brendan's not one to take no for an answer, so he swallows a spoons of cold bitter oats, unable to summon the energy to argue.

He forces down half the bowl, doesn't have a watch on today so doesn't know how long it's taken him, but he knows it's too long. He can feel each second drag by, all awhile Brendan's eyes are on him, he hasn't looked away, even for a second. This is why he is hyperaware of time passing, Brendan's focus is solely on him alone, the only thing breaking the thick silence is the sound of him chewing.

He gives up, tosses the bowl aside and for the first time in days makes eye contact with with Brendan. Brendan doesn't say a word just keeps staring, the younger man thinks he may just turn to dust under the intensity.

"What?" He asks, wanting to break the awkwardness.

"Nothing."

"It's not _'nothing'_. Whatever it is, just say it."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're on about."

Robin is becoming increasingly infuriated with Brendan's calm aloofness. He knows that he has something to say, has an opinion so why doesn't he just spit it out?

"I'm fine." He tells him.

"I didn't ask."

"But you want to."

"Yeah, I'm curious, intrigued…"

Brendan notes the change in the boys expression, even more down turned, if possible. _'Curious'_ and _'intrigued'_ weren't the wisest words, makes Robin sound like a lab rat, or a smoking monkey for Brendan to figure out.

"It matters, whatever is going on with you it matters to me. But you'll tell me in your own time."

The young boys smiles, it feels odd, unfamiliar, the muscles in his face turning up. He doesn't know when it happened, when they become more than cellmates, more than two criminals assigned to share the same space, but here they are, friends. Brendan Brady the coldblooded killer, is making sure he is fed, safe and mentally stable.

This is the cellmate he had dreaded the arrival of, the cellmate he feared may smoother him in his sleep, the cellmate he thought wanted to trade sexual favours for safety. He has the sudden need to apologise for all his misconceptions, because this very same cellmate has become one of three people in the world that he cares for. Maybe the only person in the world that can make sense of the scrambled mess that is Robin's mind.

So he opens up.

"I'm a monster."

"Kid, I've looked into the eyes of the devil himself." Brendan tells him, thinking of his father. "I've gone against some of the most heinous people." Danny, Sampson and Walker. "Every time I look into the mirror I see the face of a monster." Himself, the biggest freak of them all.

Robin shakes his head, Brendan doesn't see it, doesn't get it. "If you hadn't stopped me I would have killed him." He tells him, he needs to make him understand. "I wanted to kill him." He's admitting it to himself as much as he's admitting it to Brendan.

"You've been through a lot." Brendan reasons.

"Stop making excuses for me!" He snaps.

There it is again, that temper. This isn't the first time Brendan's witnessed it, but it's always gone as suddenly as it appeared. Like a candle flame being extinguished.

The boy is meek now, apology in his eyes. But Brendan doesn't want it, he doesn't want him to be sorry. Robin needs to own his anger, let it out or it will own him. Control him. Consume him.

"I'm not making excuses. You _have_ been through a lot. You're still that thirteen year old boy hiding away in his sister's wardrobe trying to block out the world. Up here." Brendan taps his temple twice, indicating his meaning. "But you're not him anymore, you're not even the boy I met all those weeks ago. You're brave and ambitious, you have strength in your heart."

"I don't feel like any of those things. I'm a coward, revelling in other peoples pain. I enjoyed it."

"What you did to Lincoln." It's not a question, Brendan knows, he saw it in his eyes that day. The boy nods. "That doesn't make you a monster."

"Brendan, I lost it. I don't even remember half of it, I literally blanked out from the sheer rush of it."

Brendan doesn't know what to say to talk the boy of the ledge. He never was good with words but he understands how the boy is feeling. Like he's different, like there's something rotten inside of him, down to core.

"When I was a boy, my father would call me a fairy, poof, faggot and I believed it. Yes, I see the irony. But I was eight years old, I wasn't gay or straight, I was a just a boy. My father he was a bully and I became a bully, would use my fists to control people, people who cared for me, some I care for. All to take back the power that was taken from me."

"You understand then?"

"No, we're not the same. Paralysed in that wardrobe, silenced my police who didn't believe you and what happened to you in this place..." The rape, he thinks. "You were left powerless. What you did to Lincoln, it would have felt like taking back the power, but the man is a bully for the sake of being a bully. He's the monster, not you."

"Neither are you."

"I never said-"

"You were thinking it."

-8-

Not much is said that night, Brendan makes a joke about being grateful for Robin getting back to normal because he is craving a decent meal. He really just wants to see how the lad would react, isn't entirely sure if their talk has helped or done any good. Robin laughs, and replies that nobody wants to see an hungry Brendan.

-8-

**24th June**

Brendan stays up to date on current events, likes to know what's going on in the outside world. There are newspaper lying around the leisure room but they're never current and there are always pages torn out. Instead he has one of the prison guards deliver copies of both national and local newspapers every morning.

It's on the front page, the face and headline that put everything in motion. He sits calmly reading, with his overly sweet tea, taking in every single word. The headline alone, printed in big bold letters, makes his decision easy. He reads the entire article, wants to know it all. By the end of the day he is going to have blood on his hands again.

When he's done he folds the paper in half and neatly keeps it with his belongs. A reminder.

-8-

Brendan and Robin go about their daily routine as normal, gym, shower, breakfast in their cell, and finally daily mass for Brendan and letter writing for Robin.

Robin can tell that something is off with Brendan. He's quiet, and not quiet: I have no time for the people around me, but quiet: I'm in my own head. His workout at the gym is punishing, he hardly touches his breakfast and when Robin says, "you need to keep your energy up too" he looks straight through him.

When Brendan finally returns from chapel Robin notes that it's almost an hour later than usual. When he asks what the hold up was he doesn't really get an answer, just mumblings about an old, slow priest. Brendan doesn't tell him that he stayed behind to prey and make confession.

_Catholic churches are almost always open, because you never know when you'll need salvation. Confined in his current accommodation Brendan only has access to a priest for a couple of hours on weekdays and then again for Sunday mass. He's fortunate to know in advance that he will need salvation and he's not sure when he'll next get the opportunity to confess, he has the foresight to do it now. While he still has the chance._

_Brendan can't say he prays often, he's not sure if he sees the point. With all the good, innocent people in the world why would God be listening to him? Not that he thinks he has be abandoned, the house of the Lord is always open to the lambs of the Lord. Jesus's arms are always open, even for the worst of the sinners. However, with everything he has done, the way he lives his life, he knows it is he who turnt his back on God. So he reserves he prays for the ones that he loves, for when the good and innocent people he loves need it._

_He cannot forgive himself this life and so sometime, sometimes he needs to pray for himself. He stays behind after the service, in the chapel that feels like it has a direct line to God, lights a candle and he prays for his soul, prays forgiveness for his sins._

_The priest tries to offer him comfort and solace, Brendan supposes that is his job, no matter who you are or what you've done. But all he needs from this priest is to be a channel for his forgiveness, to absolve him, because Brendan cannot do it for himself. The priest is an interpreter of his punishment: he receives four Our Fathers, six Hail Marys and is sent on his way._

_It doesn't seem like enough penance._

_He still doesn't forgive himself._

"It's lunch time." He tells his cellmate.

-8-

Brendan scans the canteen for the face he's looking for. The papers said he was transported to Liverpool Prisons yesterday, he must have spent the entire day locked away in his cell. New inmates sometime do that, keep to themselves the first few days, to acclimatize. When he doesn't find him straight away he fears he's still up there and he doesn't have time nor the patients to go looking.

Like fate the man himself walks through the door just as Brendan's about to start his search of the prison.

-8-

Robin has never seen Brendan like this, he senses the change in him, sees it in his eyes. Brendan's normally calm and all swagger, he can see the tension in him. He's searching the room, when he doesn't find what he's looking for his breathe becomes heavy. He turns to leave and he looks pissed, Robin puts he's arm out to stop him because he can tell he's about to do something stupid but he stops suddenly.

Robin follows Brendan's eye line, he is watching a guy with dark hair, tight lips and steely dark rimmed eyes. He's a new inmate but Robin recognises him, he saw his face just hours ago on the front page of Brendan's paper.

Brendan normally chucks out the newpaper once he's done wit it, but today he neatly kept it with his things and then acted strange the entire morning. He knew it was wrong and a violation of Brendan's privacy but while he was at church Robin dug it out and looked through it. The article that took up the entire first page, and a double spread on pages six and seven is about this man. A photo of his face took up must of the cover, the headline read: DOCTOR DEATH, FINALLY CONFESSES. He had killed an young Irish nurse that lived in the small village of Hollyoaks.

Irish.

Hollyoaks.

Murdered.

Robin put the pieces of the puzzle together very quickly and suddenly has a very bad feeling about what is going to happen next.

-8-

Brendan is across the room and has the doctor, Shirley Paul Browning pinned against the wall in what seems like a blink of an eye. Paul is wide-eyed, obviously scared and surprised by the attack, frantically he claws at Brendan's hands, wrapped around his neck.

Brendan doesn't seem to notice that marks have drawn blood on the back of his hands and forearm. He merely chuckles, low and ominous and it seems to change something inside Paul's head.

He'd spent the last day crying over the betrayal of his wife, telling himself that they we're still together, they were supposed to be together. Meant for one and other. But now looking into the eyes of the man that is going to squeeze the life out of him he feels what Lynsey, Lindsey, Cindy, Myra and Mercedes would have felt when he came after them. Scared, survival instincts desperately kicking in. But he has nothing to live for, to survive for, no job, no money, no wife and when a man looks at you like that, has decided your life should end, there's no stopping him. He knows that better than anyone.

He drops his hands by his side, why fight?

-8-

Warren watches from the corner of the room, eating his crumble, enjoying the show. After the visit from Brendan this morning to cash in his finial favour, _'look after the boy, keep him safe'_ , he knew something was up. But he couldn't imagine this was what Brendan had planned. Such a public act was stupid, but Warren had said it himself, Brendan Brady is a nutter, and anyway he's always been one for the theatrics.

Warren had seen some things in his time, seriously violent and fucking brutal beatings, had carried out some himself. In prison you can't imagine the inventive ways people come up with to inflict the most amount of pain, could make even the toughest of guys grimace. Prison beatings can also be effective to send a message or prove a point, some of the most professional beating he had ever seen.

This was something else.

-8-

The guards try to pull him off, one, two, three, four run over in an attempt to separate the two men. One guard takes his baton to Brendan's back then to the weak point behind his knees but it doesn't deter him, he barely acknowledges It.

He won't stop, can't be stop.

He feels Browning's hyoid bone snap under the pressure, the man takes his last breath and the light goes off behind his eyes.

The body slums, no longer a being inside to keep it up right. He releases his hold, let's the pitiful man fall to the floor.

The room is silent and the guards have all stepped back. People die in prison all the time, but this seemingly random and heartless murder has sent a shock through the food hall.

Brendan turns to face the room, shakes off the spasm running along his should, shakes off the murder. He raises his hand, surrenders because he's not going to resist or fight back. One of the guards, the bitter one, who hates the _'vile scum'_ in this place and hates working here, takes Brendan's left wrist and roughly twist it behind his back, does the same with the right before cuffing him.

"You've just earned yourself a stay In the hole." He sounds almost gleeful, whispering into Brendan's ear. His stale breath hot on the side of Brendan's face. "You're not going to see the light off day for a long time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Consequences


	11. The Ones We Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin goes to trial

**25th June**

After three months of cohabiting it's strange for Robin, waking up without Brendan in the room. Brendan isn't a loud or a talkative man, he doesn't leave a mess and mostly keeps to himself, but his presence is always felt. Robin can physically feel the absence of it, his presence, Brendan's things are there but not the man himself.

He sticks to their routine, gym, shower and then breakfast, alone. He goes to mass, has never stepped foot in the chapel before, has trouble finding it. He isn't in any way a religious man, but goes to feel linked to Brendan, connected.

He prays, has never done it before, but millions of people, maybe even billions all around the world believe in prayer, Brendan believes in it. So, skeptical as he may be Robin gives it a try. He asks for lenient sentencing for both him and Brendan, maybe a judge in a good mood, having a good day. Then he asks for Brendan to get out of the solitary soon, that he doesn't go crazy locked away in that black hole. Finally he prays for his dad's health, because just maybe this prayer thing works.

-8-

Robin returns to his cell to find Warren, eating a bag of Walker's Cheese and Onion, accompanied by a can of Cheery Tango from Robin's secrete stash, purchased at the prison commissary. He's sat on Brendan's bed, like he owns it, rumpling the neatly laid sheet, invading Brendan's space.

"What are you doing here?" He gives as much attitude as he can muster and takes the crisps out of the unwanted guest's hands.

"Brady asked me to babysit."

He doesn't like that term: 'babysit', he's not a child and doesn't need a minder, but that's the last thing on his mind.

"You've spoken to him? How is he?" Robin asks, eagerly.

"He's in solitary now, not even the rats can get him, they wouldn't want to." He laughs at the idea, a place not even good enough for vermin. " He came to see me, before he went psycho and killed the good doctor. Used his last favour on you."

For the first time it occurs to Robin that Brendan had this all planned out. When it happened, when he witnessed Brendan take that man's life he assumed he had just lost it, knows how short Brendan's temper is and so had put it down to a fit of uncontrollable rage.

' _Every time I look into the mirror I see the face of a monster.'_ This is what Brendan thinks of himself, a monster, soulless, hopeless. Anyone else may have agreed, but even with everything he knows, with everything he's seen, in his heart Robin still believes, knows that Brendan Brady is a good man.

But now he thinks about, looks back on yesterday in its entity and he must have know that it was all pre-planned. While Brendan had resigned himself to damnation Robin's safety and wellbeing was his only concern. This pisses him off, cannot fathom why Brendan would put his trial, his freedom in jeopardy like this, would be so reckless. He cannot believe Brendan would act so selfishly, to leave him alone in this place again. Not even alone, in the care of Warren Fox.

"No thanks."

Turning down the protection Brendan has arranged for him is the only way he can think of to hurt the man. He's not here anymore, isn't even aware of it but it is all he can think of to do. Robin doesn't trust Warren, knows for a fact Brendan trusts him even less, but sees fit to put Robin's life in this mans hand. And it may very well come down to that, an attempt on his life. In this place when so many people have very little to lose, you never know what or when payback will be, but it's always just around the corner.

Still, he is saying no to safety. Cutting off your nose to spite your face, comes to mind.

"No?" Warren questions.

"I can look after myself."

Warren doesn't miss the way the boy has to swallows down a knot in his throat before he can talk, the slight crack in his voice when he does finally speak, the boy reeks of hesitancy and uncertainty. It makes him laugh, snatch the foil bag right back out of his hand.

"Kid you may have had a makeover, started working out and beat a man to a pulp with a metal rod but you're still that scared little boy that walked through those gates. You're even scrawnier than ratboy, but I guess Brady likes his little lover boys helpless, all the easier to control, keep inline."

Warren's casual, licks the cheesy dusting off his fingers, to him it's a throw away sentence but to Robin it's a window into Brendan's life before prison. He doesn't know how to take it, has heard Brendan on the phone to his sister, has witnessed the love and devotion there. Brendan has never been anything but good to him, Robin thinks of how fortunate the people who have Brendan's love and cares are, thinks himself lucky and better off to have met him. But Warren is alluding to something dark, violence or possessiveness, abuse of some kind.

' _My father he was a bully and I became a bully, would use my fists to control people, people who care for me, some I care for.'_ It comes back to him, the haunted look on his face, and the dead glaze of his eyes.

He wants to ask questions about it, wants to find out more but Warrens moved on already.

"Kid, I once saw Brendan batter a man to death with a crowbar for daring to mention his precious Steven, then there was that display yesterday. I don't particularly want to wake up dead in the morgue, so until Brady's back I'm going to be on you like white on rice.

-8-

**27th June**

Robin soon realises that Warren isn't kidding around, the man never leaves his side. First thing in the morning to the last thing at night when cell doors are locked down, he is by the boy's side. Robin half expects him to sleep in Brendan's bed.

It's been less than forty-eight hours and already he is finding it hard to put up with this insufferable man. Warren Fox takes irritating to an entirely new level, constantly eating, _'chump, chump, chump'_ – goes the loud and disgusting chewing, the jokes that only he laughs at, and then there's his lack of respect for Robin's personal belongings. Robin is about ready to throw Warren under a bus, if only there were one handy.

Originally he had thought Brendan was over reacting, magnifying a molehill, but he had been right to worry. Taking over the kitchen, battering Lincoln and almost putting the local pervert in a coma and ruffled a lot of feathers and with Brendan out of the way it was the perfect opportunity for retaliation or revenge.

Warren and his men keep him safe, to the extent that a brawl breaks out in the yard, leaving the concrete stained with blood. Robin makes it out without a scratch. Warren's determination surprises him, he trusts the man about as far as he could throw him, but he figures the man is scared of what Brendan will do if anything happens to him.

Fear is a powerful incentive.

-8-

It's been three days and Robin still doesn't know what's happening, hasn't heard anything. He spends the day looking for a prison guard that can tell him when Brendan will be released from solitary confinement, allowed back into general population. It's like they are playing a game with him, purposely being vague or speaking in riddles or simply telling him to fuck off.

It's not often the Governor walks the halls of the prison, he's normally locked away at his desk. The man is by no means a pencil pusher, he's strict, able to run the prison with an iron fist, all the way from the desk in his office. But every couple of months or so he does a walk through of the entire prison, the prisoners doing whatever they can to stay out of his way, go unnoticed.

But robin has to do this, has to find out about Brendan. He straightens and holds his head high as he walks down the corridor, the men parting like the red sea for him and Warren. He looks the Governor in the eye and asks if he can 'perhaps have a moment of your time, Sir'.

Unfortunately soon after the man agrees to talk to him, Robin seems to develop a stutter. He babbles his way through, starts and restarts the sentence, he doesn't even understand it himself let alone anyone else.

"What'd you say?" The Governor ask, aggravated. "Come on kid, spit it out!"

"I was wondering if you knew when Brendan would be back?" He finally manages to spit out.

"Who?"

"Brendan Brady, Sir."

There's a slight furrowing of the man's already creased brow, his eyes go up and to the left, obvious sign of thinking. Then he's facial expressions switches to recognition, disgust and finally anger. Like serious, maddening – punch a whole in a wall with your bare fits – anger.

"Prisoner Brady dared to kill a man in the middle of my food hall. He has been deemed a danger to the welfare and safety of other prisons and shall be kept in isolation until his trial date in two weeks."

"No, but he can't!" Robin argues.

He doesn't mean to shout out, to lose his cool, but Robin's own trial starts in only six days. He could be shipped out to Manchester before seeing Brendan again.

Warren pulls back on his arm, tells him _'don't do anything stupid kid'_. In this moment he's as much in charge of protecting Robin from himself, as he is of protecting him from the other inmates.

"See this is the problem with you people. You break the law and expect the law-abiding taxpayers to keep you fed and bathed. You're entitled, think that what you want matters." He spit, disgusted. "Brendan Brady is where he belongs, if it were up to me we'd lock you all away in dark cells, leave you to stew in your own filth, starve to death. But the world isn't perfect and somehow you still have basic human rights. What I can do is personally testify at Brady's trial and recommend that he never has the privilege of walking the streets again."

"No, please." He's begging now.

"I think I'll also request he server his sentence right here, under my administration."

Forget not seeing him before his trail starts, if the Governor get his way Robing may never see Brendan again.

-8-

**2nd June**

Robin is let out of his cell before roll call, showers, puts on the suit provided by his lawyers and then leaves for the courthouse. It is the first day of his trial.

An usher leads him into the courtroom, there are some familiar faces. His dad of course, people he knew growing up, and the families and friends of his 'victim'. Then there's the people he doesn't recognise, some he assumes are journalists, here to do their jobs. Others are here because of morbid fascination, here to hear the horrid details first hand and then there's his groupies, the group of sick women who send him letters full or adoration, romanticising his actions.

Robin stands for the Judge when it's required, speaks when his lawyer's indicate it is time, willingly answers all of the prosecutions questions but let's his mind drift the rest of the time.

The prosecution goes first. It's their job to present the case against him, to get the maximum sentence possible. They don't need to prove that Robin is guilty, he has confessed and even if he hadn't the evidence against him is staggering.

Instead they put on a show of sorts, a graphic tale of how he spent months planning the hunt, torture and execution of one innocent man and two others that had served their time. They had Robin's journals, surveillance photos and videos to add to his crucifixion. They painted him as a sick and depraved savage, who enjoys inflicting fear and pain on his victims.

At the end of the day one of his lawyers reassure him, tells him not to worry about the jury looking swayed against him. They haven't had their turn yet, but they are the best at what they do and apparently once they are done the jury will be more opened minded.

**3rd June**

This team of lawyers is used to building a defence on the claim that the defendant, their client did not commit the crime in question, that the defendant is in fact innocent, they themselves victims who has been falsely accused. Today their only aim is to make sure at some point, as far in the future that it may be, Robin Watson will again walk the streets as a free man.

First they call to the stand an expert in child psychology. Robin has passed every assessment and analysis required by law and more that his lawyers insisted he undertake. Under the defined factors set by the medical community, as well as in the eyes of the law, Robin is mentally stable and wholly responsible for his actions.

The child psychologist is here to explain the parameters of posttraumatic stress in children. _Childhood Posttraumatic Stress,_ that they could diagnose him with. It's convoluted and far fetch, designed to baffle the jury.

The psychologist, a baby-faced PhD, straight out of grad school explains why Robin felt he had to do what he did. Like most children that experience traumatic events, Robin had tried to avoid any reminders or thoughts from that night. Despite this he still re-experience the ordeal in the form of intense flashbacks and nightmares. This is especially the case when re-exposed to anything that reminds them of the trauma, such as the release of Mathew Jones and Thomas Gibson.

Next he speaks of survivor's guilt, because although he was not the victim of the attack he was there and had to witness it with no escape. Then there was the tragic and premature death of his sister, suicide as a result of the night in question. This is likely to have caused feelings of guilt for having survived an event in which resulted in the death of a close family member.

Afterwards they bring in a parade of character witnesses: school teachers, neighbours, child minders even the guy who owned the Off Licence he did the paper round for when he was eleven. They all speak of how he was a peaceful child, _'wouldn't hurt a fly'_ is repeated on number of times. His lawyers concentrate on how he changed after the attack on his sister, becoming withdrawn, nonresponsive, depressed and isolated. How after the death of his only sibling he found it difficult to carry out everyday task, eating became a chore and how life was an unwanted gift he wanted to return.

Poetic really.

-8-

**4th June**

For the third day of the trial Robin's lawyers have one finial witness to question. Sara, or his penpal as Brendan had once referred to her. When his lawyers had first told him about Sara coming forward, and offered to be a key witness he had said no, had adamantly refused. But she had wanted to do it, his father pays his lawyers and so in the end he has little say in it.

Of course he knows her testimony can make a dramatic difference to his trial, shorten his sentence. What she says today could mean he won't spend the rest of his life in prison, but it also means the prosecution are allowed to question her.

After the lawyers told him what she had to offer to his case Robin knew the prosecution would discredit her. And on the first day of proceedings that's exactly what they had done, they had completely torn her story apart.

The same usher that has been escorting all the witnesses in and out of the courtroom brings in Sara. She looks tired, nervous, has obviously been crying. When her green eyes meet his she sits up, shifts forward in his seat and smiles at him, it's a sad watery smile, but a smile no less. Robin moves forward, reaches a hand out to her but is pulled back by one of the junior lawyers.

It is the only female lawyer on his team, a woman that has remained silent until now who questions Sara. She is soft spoken, looks the jury in the eye, refers to Sara by her first name and rather than Miss Grayson. It's a well played act, one to undo the damaged done by the prosecution, to make the women of the jury to sympathies with Sara and to enrage the men with mothers, sisters and daughter. It makes Robins insides itch, infuriates him to think that what happened to Sara is now just a play, a strategy in his defence.

The female lawyer starts by asking Sara to describe what happened to her, the same thing that happened to Robin sister, just five weeks before. She wants to help Robin because she feels partly responsible. If she had just spoken up, reported what happened to her then it never would have happened to Robin's sister, she'd still be alive and none of them would be here. Robin wouldn't be facing serious jail time.

It's difficult, to relive it for fifty or so strangers, for a second time in as many days, but it is all she has to offer this boy she has come to care for so much. So she speaks clearly, holds back the tears and tells every horrid detail whilst looking the twelve-jury members in the eye. She tells them how she must have been drugged but it wore off because she woke up, disoriented. She saw them all, the same three attackers, Charlie Johnson, Mathew Jones and Thomas Gibson.

This serves two purposes. Firstly to prove Charlie was in fact involved, not just a participant but the ringleader, guilty of rape and then went free. Secondly, it shows that together the three boys had developed a pattern of behavior, had done it once before and would most like have kept on doing it if Robin was not there to witness their crime. The lawyer asserts a defence that some would say Robin was justified, morally so, in killing three men in the protection of any future victims.

Again convoluted and far fetch.

-8-

The prosecution lawyer gives his closing speech, takes all of two minutes. He presents the hard fact, Robin held three men against their will for a number of hours, committed grievous bodily harm and triple homicide. The horrific nature of the crime is enough, is effective in it's motive of a guilty verdict. To make the closing statement Robin's teams used the female lawyer again. It's long, meant to pull on the heartstrings of her audience.

All the evidence has been presented, all the witnesses have been questioned and lawyers from both sides have said all that they can say. It is now time for the judge to address the jury.

"Would you now retire and consider your verdict."

-8-

It's just a lot of waiting around for Robin and his lawyers and the guards. He's never left alone, isn't aloud to leave, it's been hours and it's driving him crazy. The waiting, the not knowing is making his blood itch, his leg twitch and he can feel the start of a migraine developing.

"No news is good new." The junior lawyer tells him.

"Isn't that with medical news?"

"It applies. It means they're talking it through, looked at all the fact. It probably means someone in there maybe a few people are fighting for you."

"I wouldn't put my life on it."

He lets out a laugh, a genuine, honest to God laugh, because it is his _life_ that hangs in the balance.

-8-

**5th June**

The twelve jury members are locked away in the conference room all of the previous day, right until the courthouse closed for the evening. The deliberations continue most of this morning, Robin guarded in the same glum room, same dim lights, same dull grey paint.

The junior lawyer brings in a Full English, eggs, bacon, mushrooms, the lot. He guesses it's meant to cheer him up or be a last meal of sorts, either way all it does is remind him of Saturday breakfast at the prison. Reminds him of Brendan, how he wolfs it down, how it's probably the highlight of his week.

He realises tomorrow is a Saturday, and Brendan won't be their to enjoy his full English. Robin doesn't know what inmates in isolation are feed but it's nothing from his kitchen. What if they don't feed them? The Governor's cruel punishment. What if Brendan doesn't even know what day it is? Living in a dark cell, a ridiculously small hole for a window, one day blurring into the next.

It's been eleven days, that's a long time with only your own thoughts for company. General population is only down one person, the prison is still packed to the brim and Warren has not left his side, yet Robin has never felt so alone. It's odd, living nineteen years of your life not knowing a person even exists, but needing them, to ground you, to keep you sane after only three months.

"They're ready for you." The usher informs the room. "They've reached a verdict."

The breakfast goes untouched.

-8-

The usher leads the jury back to their seats in the courtroom, then Robin and his lawyers and finally the Judge takes his seat.

"Have you considered your verdict?" The clerk addresses the Jury Spokesperson.

"Yes". She answers.

"On the charge of the murders of Thomas Gibson, Charles Johnson and Mathew Jones, do you find the defendant, Robin Watson guilty or not guilty?"

It's the clerk who speaks again, this takes Robin by surprise. He always though it would be the judge asking all these questions or maybe he's watched too many episodes of Law and Order.

He rubs his eyes, tries to concentrate. This is what it's all been leading to and it doesn't matter if it's the Judge or the clerk asking the questions.

"Guilty."

There is commotion around the court, the junior lawyer squeezes Robin's shoulder, mutters something about an appeal. Well that's it, Robin thinks. He can't look at his dad, the man looking more withered with every passing day of this trial. He feels guilty, this whole ordeal must have put unneeded stress on him, worsened his condition. And then there's Sara, he knows she's there, somewhere in the crowd, finally allowed in the gallery now that she has testifying. He can imagine her feeling guilt too, most likely blaming herself for not doing more. But she showed so much courage coming forward after all these years, telling her story to a room full of strangers because there was the slightest chance it would save him.

"The Court will now consider an appropriate sentence." Finally, the Judge speaks. "Your young age, the fact that you have no criminal record and plead guilty will all be taken into consideration, but so shall the seriousness of your crime. Although your lawyers would have us empathies with your actions, the aggravating circumstances of those actions cannot be over looked."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Brendan gets some devastating news


	12. The Tick of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The outcome of Robin's trial.

 

**5th June**

It doesn't take long for the "court" to consider the appropriate sentence. Twenty-seven minutes to be precise. Twenty-seven minutes for the judge to make his choice on how Robin will spend the rest of his life.

First the public and lawyers are allowed back into gallery, the usher leads the jurors back in, and then Robin and finally the Judge returns from his chamber. All within twenty-seven minutes, not even enough time for lunch.

The judge has a speech prepared, about the pre-sentencing report, it's articulate and takes every single detail into account. He talks about the evidence presented, the witnesses that have taken the stand, Robin's fragile state of mind and gravity of the crime. Robin can't help but think that twenty-seven minutes isn't long enough to decide on the sentencing as well a writing this eloquent piece of dialogue.

"You have been found guilty by a jury of your peers of the murders of Thomas Gibson, Charles Johnson and Mathew Jones." The Judge begins. "The pre-sentence report recommends a sentence of a Whole Life Order, and as such you would be held in prison until the time of your death. Such an order has been specified as the seriousness of the offence is exceptionally high. You have confessed to having committed these murders, involving a substantial degree of premeditation, abduction and sadistic conduct towards your victims. The Court has the ability to accept this recommendation or reject it and impose a different sentence. At the time of the offence you where eighteen years old and considered a youth, and thus there is only minimum sentence of twelve years detention at Her Majesty's pleasure. In making the recommendation, the prosecution has noted that your crime is particularly brutal and heinous. Your behaviour before, during and after the crime strikes me as cold, calculating and without remorse for the victims or their families. I must also take into account that you have no prior convictions and that your family has previously been victimised by two of the victims. Although I sympathise with your situation, I will not and nor will this Court condone acts of revenge or vigilantism. Crime and punishment is about justice, not revenge and we cannot allow people to take the law into their own hands."

From his peripheral Robin can see a couple of his lawyers glance of each other. Just a week ago a mob had beaten and burned a man to death who had wrongly been accused of being a rapist. As a result the police forces across the country, as well as the judicial system are trying to deter vigilantes. Robin is pretty sure the Judge is going to make an example of him, his lawyers warned him this could happen.

"That being said I am going to reject the recommendation of the prosecution. You have made no attempts to cover up your crime by trying to escape or dispose of evidence and in fact willingly handed yourself into the custardy of local police. Instead I am sentencing you to Life Imprisonment, to be served at Her Majesty's Prison Manchester. You are to serve a minimum term of thirty-nine years before becoming eligible for parole. HMP Manchester is managed within the high security estate and holds Category A prisoners, such as yourself as well as lower risk prisoners."

_Life Imprisonment._

_High security,_ _category A._

_Thirty-nine years before parole._

There's a quiet celebrations coming from his lawyers but Robin can't join in with their enthusiasm. Just because it's not the worse news they could have gotten today it doesn't make it good news.

"You have the right to appeal this sentence, but your rights are limited and you will absolutely serve at least twelve years. If you are to appeal the sentence you must file a notice of your intent to appeal within two months. Your attorneys can help you with this filing."

-8-

For the first time Robin is alone in the back of the van, doesn't have to avert his gaze to avoid the eyes of the other prisons locked in the back of the police van. Instead of repeatedly counting the number of links in the chain that has him shackled to the floor -it's one hundred and thirty seven - he watches the view. From the bench, looking up through the window of the door he can mostly only see sky, tree tops, the first, second and third floors of buildings, a flock of birds flying by and a plane or two.

_Life Imprisonment._

_High security,_ _category A._

_Thirty-nine years before parole._

Parole is not a possibility that he ever imagined. The prosecution where merciless in their pursuit for a Whole Life Order, but the judge was lenient with him. In a way he is lucky, but thirty-nine years is still thirty-nine years and he'll be fifty-eight before he gets out, at least. If he were free he would have children, grandchildren even by then. He'd be looking forward to retiring, probably saved up for a villa in Spain for him and his wife to spend their golden years, somewhere by the sea where the family could visit over the summer.

But he doesn't have all that to look forward too. His future consists of grey walls, a single bed and using the toilet in front of other men. He doesn't even have to comfort of knowing Brendan will be there with him, to protect him, to fill his time with companionship, friendship.

It's all hits him at once, the lawyers talk of appeals but he has no hope and no energy to fight. He could cry, feels the tears threatening to spill, stinging the back of his eyes. But he doesn't, won't let himself because if he starts there'll be no stopping him. So instead of thinking of all the things that have gone wrong, all the things and people he has lost he enjoys the view, with a smile on his face.

-8-

Back in his standard issue prison uniform, box of his belongings in hand Robin walks the narrow corridor to his cell. He wonders if all prisons across Britain have a universal design, grey toned walls, pale linoleum floors, and too bright lights. A mixture of dank and dull, with a constant florescent glare coming from above, nothing homely about the place.

When he makes it to his cell he doesn't expect to see the sight before him.

"Brendan?"

The Irishman is perched on the edge of his bed, elbows leaning on his knees, hands linked together, head bowed between is shoulder blades and forehead resting against his clasped hands.

When Brendan looks up to see Robin standing at the entrance to their cell he is just as surprised to see him there, as the teenager is to Brendan.

"What are you doing here?" They both ask simultaneously.

Both men laugh then, because does it really matter? At the start of the day, just nine hours before Robin had thought he'd be spending the night in Manchester, 42 miles separating him and Brendan, never to see each other again. And Brendan, Brendan had though he had another five days in solitary confinement, no idea whether or not Robin's trial had finished yet.

When he returned to their cell to find it empty, the walls on the left side of the room bare of photos, letters, books, toiletries all gone. The only trace left of the boy's existence was his favourite book, Jane Eyre left for Brendan on his pillow.

Robin sits on his bed across from Brendan, their knees almost touching, the room so small. He tells Brendan about the trial, how it went, how he felt and finally his sentencing.

"What are you doing back here then?" Brendan asks confused, after Robin informs him he'll be serving the rest of his time in Manchester.

"My lawyers said it's a budget thing. When transporting prisoners from one prison to another there must be at least three inmates in the van, to save money on excess trips. I'm going to be kept here until someone more people need transferring from here or the courthouse."

"We'll probably go over together then."

Brendan obviously hasn't been told of the Governor's plans to keep him here in Leeds, and Robin can't bring himself to tell him the truth. The younger man feels partly responsible, if he hadn't approach the Governor Brendan's trail wouldn't even be on his radar.

"I though you weren't getting out of the hole till your trial started?" He asks, changing the subject.

"My lawyer worked his magic."

Over the week Jim had made several attempts to make contact with Brendan and each time had been informed that _"prisoner Brendan Brady is currently unavailable."_ When he asked when his client would be available they told him _"not for the forcible future."_

Eventually Jim had driven down to the prison and demanded to speak to the Governor. He wasn't available but the Chief Guard was happy to speak to him, told him about everything that had happened to Brendan, and where he had ended up. The guard had been more helpful than Jim could ever have hoped for, even told him about the Governor's plans to testify for the prosecution. Now _that,_ he could work to his advantage.

That afternoon he had lobbied a Judge friend of his, requesting that Brendan be released from Solitary confinement immediately. Due to its ineffectiveness solitary confinement as a disciplinary measure has been largely reduced or eliminated in The United Kingdom and the rest of Europe. There is already a lot of press surrounding Brendan's arrest, especially after the murder of Paul Browning and with the trial starting in just a week. What the court doesn't want is more attention surrounding this case, especially criticism due to misuse or violation of penal regulations. The Judge made one phone call and within the hour Brendan was back in his cell.

-8-

**6** **th** **June**

Brendan has an early morning pre-case meeting with Jim. They talk about the defense strategy, witnesses, the affect of killing Browning will have on the case and likely outcome over coffee and croissants.

Once they are done Jim quickly stuffs all the documents back into his briefcase in an attempt to leave swiftly.

"As always, it was a pleasure." He says on the way to the door.

One by one Brendan wraps his fingers around Jim's wrist before he can exit the meeting room. "James." His tone his short and sharp. "I think you're forgetting something."

"I don't think so. We discussed everything regarding to your case."

"Tell me about Steven."

The man doesn't look Brendan in the eye, can't look Brendan in the eye, is scared that he'll be able to see he's hiding something. But he knows that when it comes to the lad Brendan's not going to let it go, he has to give him something. He sits down, tells him how Ste's doing much better, great even, back at work, kids around, socialising more, seems to have his life together.

But Brendan's not stupid. That's all good news, if things have truly improved for Ste or it was news that Brendan would have gladly heard Jim would not have tried to escape without reporting back to him.

"I didn't come down in the last shower."

"I haven't the faintest-"

"Make no mistake, if there's something you haven't told me I will find out." Brendan warns, interrupting his barrister. "For your sake, it's better you tell me straight up."

"Ste, he has-" Jim stutters, trips over his own tongue, doesn't want to be the person to give Brendan this particular news. He doesn't think the expression 'don't shoot the messenger' will have much effect in placating this man. "He has someone living with him."

The twitch in Brendan's cheek returns, spasming uncontrollably, his fingers become restless, fidgeting on their own accord, while his leg is quietly jumping up and down underneath the table.

"You mean he's moved in another man?"

"Yes." Jim answers honestly, has seen how Brendan is with the lad, he deserves to know what's happening, maybe it will help him move on. "Well a boy really, in his teens from what I can tell."

"Since when?" He croaks out, his voice breaking like that of a prepubescent teenage boy.

"I don't know. A month, five weeks maybe, six at the most."

Six weeks Ste had moved in is new lover, just a month after his arrest. In all honesty Brendan can't say he's all that surprised, he did always move fast, sixteen years old and accepting Leah as his own and right out of young offenders, making declarations of love to Noah after just a few weeks, willing to move to Newcastle with the man and marrying Doug after just eight months.

Then there was that time he suggested they move to Brighton together, Brighton, for God's sakes. That was before they were even a couple, before Brendan could admit who he is or accept his sexuality. Ste has a way of opening up, completely throwing himself into a relationship and Brendan misses that about him. He has moved on, Brendan had told him to do exactly that, and it seem he is finally living the life he deserved. Brendan can't hold that against him, no matter how much he wish it was him living in the dingy council flat and living that life along side the young man.

Still, it is all hard to take, swallow as truth and the emotions are over whelming. More than Brendan can cope with, doesn't know how to deal with what he is currently feeling. So he laughs, a loud, body trembling, tear inducing, hysterical laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Brendan's trial


	13. Her Majesty's Crown Courts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected events at Brendan's trail.

 

**8** **th** **July**

It's the first day of Brendan's trial, yet it's robin that is full of nerves, anxiousness seeping out of the teenager's pours. The younger man has hardly slept, and so when Brendan wakes up early for the transport van, Robin is already up.

"You watching me sleep kid?" Brendan asks over a yawn. "Do I need to be worried about you trying to climb into bed with me again?"

Robin knows what Brendan is trying to do. He's trying to calm him down, trying to make light of the situation. Even so, it works in a way. The boy smiles a little, letting out a small breathy laugh. It's strange to think where they've come from and where they are now.

When he first found out Brendan Brady was going to be his cellmate, that the psycho was already in his cell while Robin was in the infirmary, recovering from the latest attack he though _'thank God'_. The terror that was ignited within the boy made him believe in God, if just for a moment, someone up there must have been on his side. At least he'd have a few safe days locked away from the man.

Then his x-rays and test results came back and it turned out his injuries weren't as bad as originally believed. Robin was to return to his cell the following day. For the second time in a mere twenty-four hours Robin thought there might just be a higher power. One with a sick sense of humour, one that took immense pleasure in playing with him.

It turned out Brendan wasn't so bad. From what Robin could tell of the man was basically mute, kept to himself, and hadn't acknowledged his existence. Robin was all right with being invisible, invisible meant unharmed.

Then there was the night he though Brendan wanted more from him, thought that Brendan was like the other monsters in the prison. So he climbed out of his bed and into Brendan's. If he had learnt anything in life it was people would take what they wanted, if you submitted, didn't put up a struggle it would hurt less, be over quicker.

Back then he didn't know Brendan as well as he does now, Robin wasn't able to read the Irishman's micro-expressions. But now, looking back, it's like re-watching a movie he's seen ten times already but only no understanding the actual message.

_"Are you even gay?"_ Brendan had asked.

_"Like that even matters, there's only one thing a guy like me is good for around here."_

He's accused Brendan of being a rapist, and he hadn't seen it that night but for half a second Brendan looked sick to his stomach. How hadn't he seen it?

"I'm sorry." Robin apologises, feeling sick to his stomach.

"What for?"

"That night you helped me, stopped me getting my face caved in and I, I… I made prejudgments about you. I was wrong."

Brendan simply smiles, not wanting to dwell on what those prejudgments were. The thing that he had already been accused of, that the entire population of Hollyoaks Village believed him capable of.

If it created doubt in Steven's mind, the person that should have know what he was and wasn't capable of, better than anyone else then Brendan can't hold it against someone that was a stranger to him at the time.

"Lets have breakfast, the guards will be in soon." Brendan says, changing the subject.

-8-

The first day of the trial, goes much as Brendan expects. The prosecution presents evidence that portrays him as a clod blooded killer. Five people dead at Brendan's hands, including his grandmother and for apparently no reason, his father. All very predictable, a bore really where Brendan is concerned.

Even though it isn't his time to argue his case, Jim at least is entertaining, never idle for long. He had a whole plethora of phrases such as " _My Lord, I must object to this line of questioning"_ and _"I do believe my learned friend is leading the witness"_ or _"Obviously the prosecution is fond of hyperbole, My Lord. My client is hardly a violent, psychotic, career criminal, merely an expressive, misunderstood entrepreneur."_ The man said it all with a smile on his face, rolling on the balls of his feet and crossing his arms with conviction.

-8-

**10** **th** **July**

The prosecution had spent the last three days making their case. Tomorrow Jim is going build the defence. He warns the Irishman that it will be an early start and a very long day, the Chief Crown Prosecutors wanted the case over with quickly. If Jim was right there would be no recesses, realistically it won't take long for the jury to reach a guilty verdict, they could be out of there by late afternoon.

-8-

**11** **th** **July**

The court case has its benefits, Brendan is able to wear a suit, he had Jim reclaim the clothing the police had confiscate from Steven's, a different suit for everyday in court. Not an oversized, standard-issue, prison jumper in sight. He'd missed it, the feeling of expensive cotton against his skin, the sleek fit of the dark virgin wool of his suit. On the outside world it made him feel more powerful, showed the people his status, in the courtroom, on the dock, with all those eyes on him it makes him feel less venerable.

"You haven't finished packing yet."

Robin is sat on his bed, watching Brendan style is hair, all the young boy's belongings already packed in a bag and a few boxes. Today is the day that Robin and a few other inmates would be moved to Manchester prison, as well as prisoners from the courthouse, such as Brendan who would be sentenced by the end of the day.

"My things hardly feel half a duffle bag, I have time before the van gets here."

"No, no." The young boy refuses, shaking his head to stuff Brendan's things into his holdall. "You need to get it done so whatever the judge decides you'll be ready."

The boy is manic almost, gathering the few things Brendan has around the room into a pile ready to be packed away. Muttering something Brendan can't quite pick up, about staying together maybe.

Brendan takes the picture of his children out of Robin's hands, putting it back on the desk before turning to take hold of the now trembling boy. Brendan places one hand on Robin's shoulder, the other on the boy's neck in attempt to calm him through contact and crouches slightly so they are eye to eye.

Brendan is pretty sure the boy is having a panic attack, he can fill Robin's erratic pulse, beating rapidly under his palm. There is a film of sweat covering his forehead and his pupils are completely blown. The younger man is trying to speak, but he can't get it out, literally choking on every word.

"Just relax. Don't try to speak" Brendan tells the boy. "Breath for me, nice and slow."

Robin locks his gaze on Brendan, trying to get his breathing under control – in through his nose and out though his mouth. He is scared that if he looks away for just a second, even to blink that the man will disappear. Brendan's voice is his anchor. The man keeps telling him to _breath_ , _just like that_ , tells Robin that he is doing much better.

He doesn't know how long it lasts for, shaking limbs, his chest tightening in pain and stomach churning, nausea rising within in him. He just knows that he feels like he's drowning and in that moment he can't help but think it may be easier to drown, submerging himself full in the fear, rather than swimming back to the surface. But Brendan's there though it all, the light at the end of the tunnel, and even though it is exhausting, he breathes deeply and counts to ten. Fighting through it, till the dizziness clears and he is back in the room with Brendan.

What he had learned as a boy is that people only ask, _"How are you?"_ to hear you say _"fine"._ It gives them permission to paint brush over the problem, pretending that it's not there. He had been conditioned to say _"I'm fine",_ " _things are good_ " and " _yeah, not bad_ " with a smile on his face, because no body wanted to hear him cry over the misery corroding his heart.

But looking into the eyes of the man in front of him, he believes it when Brendan asks _"how you doing kid, okay_?" and so he answers honestly.

"I can't do this without you."

"You won't have to, I ain't going anywhere." Brendan tells him confused.

"But I am. My transfer has been put in, no matter what happens in court, this time tomorrow I'll be in Manchester."

"We both will."

"Not if the Governor has his way and it's my fault."

"Wait? That was you, who strangled a man to death in the middle of dinner?" Brendan jokes.

Robin can't help but laugh, sniffing and wiping away tears. "No. But I spoke to him, trying to get you out of isolation and he got pissed."

"No, I mad him look bad, like he couldn't control his prison. That's why he's out for my blood."

"It doesn't matter why. It just matters that he's going to make sure that you aren't transferred. That you serve your sentence here, in this cell, with out me."

"That's not going to happen."

Jim had told him of the Governor's threats, that there had been worries of placing Brendan in this particular prison because he could be too unpredictable. The Governor had ensured his superiors that he could deal with Brendan, handle him, that _his_ prison was the right place for the man until his sentencing.

But, Brendan had killed a man in a room full of guards, got the other inmates all riled up. He had made a fool of the Governor and the man was going to spend the rest of his career making him pay for it.

With a vindictive Prison Governor out to get him, it was easy to explain to Jim why he would want to serve his sentence in a high security prison, without bringing up the need to protect the red headed boy. Jim hadn't been worried, the Governor had acted out of protocol and clearly didn't know how to handle a high profile prisoner so if Brendan wanted to be transferred, Jim could make it happen.

"My lawyer has that covered." Brendan reassures the boy.

Robin knows he is being selfish, that with good behaviour and privileges to be gained life in a Category B/C prison could be bearable. A game's room, extended yard time and the chance of having electronic game consoles in your room, not exactly a holiday camp but better that a Category A prison. Robin was basically asking Brendan to give up what little freedom he had left, it was selfish he knew, but he had to ask. He had lost his mother at birth, never known her, lost his sister as a teen, he would surly lose his father to illness in the coming years and he had lost the only girl he had ever cared for – well he never really had her. So nineteen years on after his first big loss, Robin still had a hard time letting things go, he couldn't lose Brendan.

"You're sure?"

Brendan wants to promise the boy that they would both be in the van to Manchester this evening, he is sure of it but he also knows that the universe had a way of fucking him over. So instead he simply hugs the boy. Looking up at the noise of the guards coming to collect him.

Both guards look uncomfortable at the sight, and so one indicates that it is time to go. Brendan hugs the smaller boy slightly tighter, wanting to promise that everything will be okay, that it will all turn out okay, or as okay as things can't get for men facing life in prison. But he knows that hope can be a dangerous thing in prison. Can drive a man insane. Hope has no place here.

Maybe Robin should get used to the idea.

Brendan's parting words involve a joke about getting another young lad in need of a guardian angel if he does end up staying in Liverpool. That Brendan can stay up all night listening to the next lad's problems, helping him sleep well, like a lullaby.

Realising the memories he is drawing from – _"that's me, I'm like a lullaby"_ – a shiver runs down his back and Brendan leave the cell.

-8-

It will be a further thirty-five minutes before the Judge is ready and the day's proceedings start. It was the same everyday, Brendan was to arrive at the courthouse ridiculously early, Jim would buy him breakfast from a cafe near by - it was a chocolate Danish, apple and of course a sugary coffee today.

Once they are settled Jimmy begins to review his strategy, and line of questioning for the witnesses.

As far as the world is concerned Brendan was the only person in the room at the time of Danny's death, there is no one to back up his claims of protecting Steven. Jim is planning on using the polices' own file on Danny against them, they had a list of murders they had suspected him of committing. The friends and families of people he had grievances with. If the police believed he was capable of murder, why wouldn't Brendan take him seriously?

Theresa McQueen, will be the first witness to take the stand. She is pretty, blond and dopey and has a way of playing victim. A young single mother, the jury would eat up her story. It will be impossible not to see Mickey for the dangerous monster he was after she tells them how he had befriended her, lured her away using the stolen phone of her boyfriend. Then proceeding to beat her and then taking her hostage.

Then it would be Joel, also there to tarnish Mickey's reputation. How the man had beat him up his entire life, sine he was just a boy. And now that he had built a life for himself, had a business of his own, tried to get his mother away, Mickey had come after him yet again. Brendan being the only person he could turn to for protection.

Jim had also tracked down one of Nana Flo's friends and her oncologist. They would both tell tales of her depression and hatred of hospitals. The woman had not been quiet in her desire to die in her own home, to visit her holiday home with her grandchildren before the time came. Both woman had got the impression that she wanted to take her life under her own terms and wouldn't be surprised if she had asked her beloved grandson to do it. The old bat was always looking for a loophole.

Shawnee would be his final witness, he had kept that one under his belt until the last possible moment. He wanted to take the woman by surprise, had seen how discussing Walker had flustered her. She knew Walker was personally attached to the case, she should have never have let him get so involved. When Walker went on to unravel, not showing any results and then shooting a fellow officer that was the time to remove him. Shawnee had failed to do so and Walker went to attack her and then to kill someone. An innocent man that would now never see his son, hadn't even found out he would to be a father again. Walker had gone on a crime spree, Jim would argue that it had been Shawnee's fault, that the woman had many chances to end the whole thing but she had messed it up and now she was leading the investigator into his death. Jim was planning on turning to the jury and asking them if they could see the conflict of interest?

He also had a way of dealing with the Governor, who was still out for revenge. A crime had occurred in his prison and rather than phoning the actual police to have Brendan rearrested, and have all the witnesses give their statements for a second trail, the situation had been mishandled. Brendan was thrown into a dark cell. It wasn't illegal in England, but studies had said it should be considered a form of psychological torture. A period of confinement longer than a few weeks could cause irreversible damage, and the Governor had been heard threatening to lock Brendan away indefinitely until the man starved to death.

The county had made a mess and the press had been covering the case all week and everyone wanted it over. He couldn't get Brendan off, but he was going to reduce the sentence, get Brendan parole and start pre-work on ruining the Browning case.

Jim was almost finished talking Brendan through the day's plan when a guard walked in.

"I'm here to take the prisoner to use the restroom."

Brendan couldn't help but find that odd, he looks over his lawyer but Jim doesn't seem to have a clue either. He has half a mind to protest, he's a grown man and will use the facilities when he needs, not as some sort of precaution. But honestly any excuse to get away from Jim's inane chatter and the loud chewing sounds he made, should be taken.

Brendan is handcuffed, as he always on leaving the meeting room. He doesn't see the point, it was a courthouse, filled with armed police officers, cameras and metal detectors along with an officer at every entrance.

When they get to the men's bathroom the guard stops Brendan and removes the hand cuffs, indicating for the Irishman to enter alone. Brendan also finds this odd, normally there are two officers. One to stay with him at all times, the other to make sure the restroom was empty. Only then would he be allowed to enter and un-cuffed, one guard standing by the door to ensure nobody enters.

He isn't going to complain, he can't actually remember the last time he had a moment to himself. So he enters the bathroom, stretching out the ache in his shoulder, coming face to face with a familiar face.

"What are you doing here?" Brendan asks the young man, turning to make sure the door is closed behind him, the officer unaware.

"I'm here to testifier." The lad replies nonchalantly, all that is missing is the _'duh_ '.

"Joel." Brendan says sternly. "I'm not allowed to have contact with any witnesses at the _courthouse_ , _unsupervised_ , epically not until you have testified."

"Well that's not happening." Joel says with a smirk on his face, feeling pretty please with himself. So far his plan is working out.

"Are you seriously fucking backing out? Now?" Brendan demands, stalking forward. "Is this some sort of payback?" Brendan is honestly surprised, he thought he had sorted everything with the younger man.

"God, relax, hothead. I'm not testifying because there isn't going to be a trial." He clarifies.

Brendan stops approaching Joel, the boy looks happy, like he was delivering good news. Brendan on the other hand is confused and his face is showing it.

"I'm breaking you out!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Shit gets crazy


	14. Plan C

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joel has a lot to say from himself

 

**11th July**

Brendan laughs, can't help but let out a roaring, belly rumbling, eye water laugh. Because really, Joel Dexter, the kid that's fucked up pretty much every criminal endeavor he had set his mind to, this is the person that's going to stage a break out from a courthouse? Kid couldn't break his was out of a paper bag.

Brendan walks over to the urinal and unzips, he's here now, might as well.

"And upon my death the Pope is going to make me a saint, for my charitable work in Uganda." He tells the boy over his shoulder, still grinning.

Walking over to the sink to wash his hands Brendan sees that there is shaving gel, a razor and a change of clothes - a pair of dark jeans, jumper and a jacket - all set out on the side of the sink.

"You're serious?"

"Yes, and you need to hurry up." Joel looks at his watch, slightly panicked.

Brendan doesn't say anything or move.

"We've got twenty-three minutes until the trial start. I for one would liked to be as far from this place as physically possible, before they notice you aren't in the building."

"It's finally happened, you've lost the plot. You smuggle a few things in to the prison and now you think you can pull off a prison break? Really? How exactly do you plan to get me out of this building? I climb into that backpack of yours and you carry me out?""Firstly, not a prison break, that would be stupid. And we've spent months planning this Brendan, you don't-"

" _We've?_ " Brendan interrupts because who else would be stupid enough to get involved with this plan? Who would be desperate enough?

"Just an interested party." Despite having said too much and putting his foot in it Joel stays cool, doesn't miss a beat.

"Joel!" Brendan all but growls.

"An investor you might say, this ain't been cheap."

Brendan only knows one person with the type of money to pull this off, and she might just feel guilty enough to try it as well.

"You've gotten my sister involved in this ridiculous scheme? Remember all that things I said before you left the village?" It's rhetorical, Brendan doesn't leave a second for the boy to reply. "Well it was forgotten, but you're making it really hard for me not to hurt you." Brendan whispers, encroaching on the lad's personal space.

"Hey, hey, hey! They approached me, you honestly think it was my idea to come in here and break you out? This plan was well and truly in motion before I even knew about it, I'm just making sure the ' _interested party'_ doesn't get directly involved. That they have an alibi, and are nowhere near this place. Really you should be thanking me."

"Thanking you? You should have convinced Cheryl to let this go. To get on with her life."

"People love you Brendan, you can't just expect your family to move on. This plan… I know it's crazy but it's a good plan."

A good plan, constructed by Joel and Cheryl? Highly unlikely but Brendan will be the judge of that.

"Alright, walk me through it then. How is this plan of yours going to get me out of this building?" Because if it's something overly complicated or not well thought out, then there's no hope for the rest of this plan.

"You just walk out."

"I just walk out." Brendan repeats slowly. "Through the front door? Right by the very officer that's signed me in and out of the building for the past four days?"

"Well first you shave off the beard, because the press only use photos of you with facial hair, and then you get changed. When we're ready I'll make a call for the CCTV to be put on a loop and one of the cleaners will let you through the service entrance. You think that guard is the only one on the take?" Joel explains looking pretty proud with himself.

Brendan can't fault it, although money can buy almost anything he never likes to put too much responsibility on outside forces, on people he doesn't know. Because once the police are involved, start questioning everyone in the building people will start to talk.

"And when deals come into play, lessened sentence for being accessory to a crime, how long before someone _on the take_ drops you in it?"

"I never contacted anyone directly, it was all done my typed, hand delivered letters, untraceable. No one even knew who they were talking to. No one has seen me and no one will see us together."

"And once I'm out of here? Because you get that I'll be a hunted man, Cheryl gets that even if this plan all falls into place, and I some how set up a new life she will probably never see me again?"

"Better that, than you being locked caged for the rest of your life?"

"If you love something let it go?" Brendan asks, his voice thick with sarcasm.

"Look Brendan, you're going to jail for life, if it all falls through and they catch you, what are they going to do? Send you to prison for another thirty-five years?"

"What about you? What if they figure out you're involved. You're the only person that's been to visit me."

"Unlikely, like I said I've got myself covered."

Brendan quirks his eyebrow, he always was cocky little shit. With Joel's track record, he's not exactly feeling the same level of optimism. Brendan put himself in this position, he made his choice and has to live with it, he doesn't want the younger man to put his own freedom on the line.

"If that happens, then it happens and I can live with the consequences." Joel tells him earnestly. "I didn't jump into this easily, but you did something for me. You sorted out my mess even after I ran, left you to deal with the police and then you made it so no one would ever suspect me if Mickey's body was every found. You did that for me, for once let someone else do something for you. Okay?"

"Right. Fine." Brendan gives in. "Okay."

-8-

As Brendan covers his face with shaving gel - the sensitive kind he likes - he can't believe he is doing this. Then again he can't think of a reason not to do it, Joel is right because even if it doesn't work out he literally has nothing more to lose.

Razor in hand, Brendan can't hide the smile on his face, because this might actually work. In a week he could be sunning himself on a beach somewhere, courtesy of Nate Tenbury-Newent. He'd have to leave his sister behind, but this is what he wanted, for her to be happy, not tear-filled prison visits. And this would be the end for him and Steven, but in reality he'd already said goodbye, the end was in that hospitable room and from what Jim told him it is clear to Brendan that Steven has already moved on. Everyone will be better off, the guilt won't be eating Cheryl up for the rest of her life, and after the initial shock Steven will do what he does best, survive.

Except not every one would be better off, because there's Robin. He had made the boy a promise, just this morning. In the past Brendan often made promises he had no intention of keeping, his word wasn't exactly worth much, but he had meant this. During his last few weeks in Hollyoaks he had made so many promises to Steven, promises of a better life - together, then he made the choice to save his sister and he had been physically unable to keep those promises, but this he could keep. Cheryl, Steven and even his children would pick themselves up, would eventually be fine without Brendan in there lives, maybe not being in there lives was his way of protecting them. He causes too much pain, and destruction followed him like a cloud, but with Robin it is different, the one thing he hasn't gotten wrong, yet.

"I can't go." He tells Joel, putting the razor down and cleaning his face off.

"What?"

"There someone… I can't leave him."

"You are not fucking serious? A year I watched you pine over Ste, and what some other guy-"

Brendan grabs Joel by the lapels of his leather jacket and shoves him against the wall, because he won't have his feelings for Steven questioned. No one will ever compare, they will never be together again, but it will always be him. It will always be Steven. He let's go after seeing fear in the boys eyes, backing off Brendan turns his back to compose himself.

"I'm sorry." He says turning to look the boy in the eye. "It's not like that, I'm just looking out for the kids. I'm just doing the right thing… for once."

"It's fine." Joel tells him. "But Brendan, I've spoken to Jim and he says you'll be moving prisons so you won't be there to protect this guy anyway."

"No he's being transferred too, he'll be in the transport van-" and it hits Brendan "The transport Van! You can take us both from there."

"I get it you care for this guy, but are you really ready to give up you freedom for him?"

"I ain't leaving without Robin. Look you were the one bigging up his plan, was convinced you had it down to a tee, so you must have a contingency. Every good plan has a contingency, a Plan B so to speak."

"I don't know, Brendan." Joel looks unsure, but also like he's keeping something.

"So there is another way out?"

"Yeah, but not a ' _Pan B'_ this is more like Plan C. Like this was the last possible resort, and I was never onboard because there are way too many variables."

"But possible?" Brendan asks, hopeful.

"Sure, if everything slots in place. We already have it in motion, in case like... all I'd have to do is make a phone call to put it into action."

"Then make a phone call."

-8-

Jim had prepped both Joel and Theresa on how to best answer the questions to paint Brendan in a positive light. Nana Flo's friend is a sweet old lady who cannot believe that Brendan would hurt a fly, let alone his dear old grandmother. She tells the jury that he was a sweet, gentle boy, but she is certain that he only would have taken Florence's life if it were what the woman had wanted. The doctor is professional, has a clinical way about her, the woman never leans either way, simple states what she witnessed, but it still works in their favour.

"I have no further question." Jim informs the Judge after he is finished with the last witness of the day, DCI Shawnee, whom he slaughtered.

Jim had been right, it didn't take long at all to question the five witnesses, less than four hours and then the judge retires the jury to discuss the verdict.

They are all filing back in by 14:30, having been gone for just over two and a half hours. Just long enough for the jury to order in lunch and have a cigarette, because he's guilty, clearly.

"I hear a verdict has been reached." The Judge states, looking down at his watch.

Judge Tim Macklin has very little patience for this particular case, everybody knows how it is going to play out. But it's procedure, evidence, witnesses, a jury, lawyers playing a game of one-up-manship, when all he wants to do is get down to the badminton court.

"Yes, my Lord we have". Replies the Jury Spokesperson.

"On the charge of the murders of Danny Huston, Michael Cornish, Florence Brady, Simon Walker and Seamus Brady, do you find the defendant, Brendan Seamus Brady guilty or not guilty?" The clerk asks.

"Guilty."

There's commotion throughout the court, and the judge rolls his eyes so much it's almost painful. No one is surprised, even in a simple, black and white case like this the verdict always gains a reaction from the gallery.

The judge doesn't need time to consider the sentencing, he's been at this for over a decade and has had men like Brendan Brady in his dock before. Low to middle level criminals that end up killing a person, their first murder and it's not planned or it's a accident and they justify it to themselves, have a million and one excuses. But they get away with it – luck out - it gives them a sense of grandiosity, that they're above the judicial system. This type of man will do it again and again, because they believe they won't get caught, can't get caught. Brendan Brady would have kept on killing if he hadn't been arrested.

However his lawyer has done a good job, painted him as some kind of saviour of the helpless and venerable. The judge doesn't agree with civilians take the law into their own hands, just pick up a phone and call the police. But he can see the press lining the back of the room, recorders on and notepads out. Whatever he decides will be all over the front page of the morning paper. So no matter how he personally feel about Jim McGinn, the spin doctor of a layer, he has to take it all into account and reduce the sentence, somewhat.

"I am sentencing you to fifty-two years imprisonment, to be served at Her Majesty's Prison Manchester. You will have to serve a minimum thirty-seven years before you will even be considered for parole."

The judge goes on to discuss the possibility of an appeal, but Brendan has already talked this over with Jim, they were going to appeal for the sake of appealing. _"All you need is a lazy clerk, a judge in a good mood or an inexperienced prosecutor and your sentence could be significantly reduced or the case thrown out all together"_ Jim had told him. Instead he was running the numbers through in his head. In fifty-two years he'd be eighty-five, in all honesty Brendan never imagined living to that age, doubts he'll still be alive. Even if he is, what will be waiting for him when he gets out?

Steven will be seventy-four, because no matter how much Brendan tries to convince himself he has moved on it still comes down do to Steven. Steven will have lived a full life by then, there won't be a place for Brendan, so the answer is that there will be nothing and no one waiting for him.

He looks up at Joel in the gallery and nods at the boy, indicating that the plan should go ahead.

-8-

After agreeing to Joel's _'Plan C'_ they hadn't had much time to discus the logistics it, Brendan had needed to get back to Jim before anyone got suspicious. All he knew was that it was happening in the transport van, which didn't fill him with much confidence. But apparently they had enough money to buy off everyone.

As soon as the sentence is given Brendan is handcuffed and led straight to the transport van at the back of the building. Robin is sat across from him, four other men already in the van. The officer chains him to the floor, gives him an odd look that Brenan assumes is meant to be some kind of code. He gives Robin a small reassuring smile and the boy just nods, but neither says a word, not really the situation for friendly chitchat.

Brendan waits, expecting an inside man to let them go or for Joel to turn up guns blazing, or something, anything. Nothing happens and a minute later two officers get into the main carriage of the van and the engine starts. Brendan lets out a heavy breath, disappointed almost as they pull out of the car park. He'd let himself believe that this was going to happen, that there was a chance he'd be free. Joel's idealism is all well and good, but Brendan should have known better.

-8-

They haven't been on the road for long, no more than ten minutes into the one-hour drive to Manchester when the van comes to a stop. There's a small window along the top of the van but all Brendan can see out of it is treetops and blue sky. From the looks of it they're on a country lane, at least a few miles from civilisation.

Brendan leans his head against the van wall behind him, closes his eyes and begins to whistle Stupid Cupid tune to calm himself. However, it has the opposite affect of one of his fellow prisons who tells him to _'shut the fuck up, before I rip your vocals chords out through your asshole'_. Brendan can't help but laugh a little, chuckling lightly to himself.

"Oh you think that's funny?"

Brendan doesn't reply, continues to hum the song in his head - to avoid an unnecessary confrontation - trying to get back to that place of tranquil, that the memories of Cheryl and himself dancing as children provokes.

"But I guess you'd like that?" The man continues, the challenge of conflict in his voice.

Not one to ever back away from the proposition a challenge, Brendan opens one eye and tilts his head in the direction the voice came from. Brendan doesn't recognise the bald beefcake smirking at him from across the van.

Neo-Nazi type. Reichsadler tattooed on the side of his shiny head, and a racist if the white power fist of his bicep means anything, and finally a Satanist with inverted crosses inked onto both eyelids. Again Brendan's body reacts instinctively, his eyes rolling without his permission. He wonders if this idiot is aware that the inverted cross is actually the symbol of Saint Peter, the first Pope when he had it permanently drawn onto his face as some kind of anti-religion protest.

"And what would that be?" Brendan asks.

"Me sticking my fist up you, you'd like that wouldn't you? Dirty little faggot." The beefcake spits.

Brendan opens his mouth to reply, but is stopped by Robin calling out his name. He turns to face the boy, eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Don't."

"Yeah that's it, listen to your little girlfriend." Beefcake laughs, making the crack of a whip sound _._

Brendan knows that he has to keep to himself, stay out of trouble in this new prison, because prison gossip and news articles depicting his crimes won't mean shit. He had told Robin as much, "keep your head down, and serve your time". They were going into unknown territory, there'll be a hierarchy and well established alliances, and in all honesty Brendan isn't sure he will be able to protect himself let alone Robin.

But this fucker has it coming. Brendan can't wait to connect his fist with beefcake's jaw. Even when Brendan knows what's best, what he should do he can't not make a move. He's going to tell Robin just this, when his eyes catch the boy's chains in his periphery. He looks down to the ground where the chains are supposed to be padlocked to the ground, but the padlock is open, you'd miss it if you weren't really looking but it's not actually attached to anything.

Brendan looks down to his own chains, there isn't even a padlock, the chain is simply wrapped around the loop on the floor. He tugs slightly – testing the tension - subtle enough not to draw any attention, but enough to know that if he pulled a little harder the chains would unravel. But he doesn't know what to do with this, it's not enough information. He could get himself free, then Robin, but the van door is surely locked. Even if it has been left open, what are they going to do? Run through the countryside, with nothing but the clothes on their backs and the pictures in there bags? Police sniffer dogs on their trail within a few hours?

"Fuck."

Brendan hadn't attended to say it out loud, but in his frustration he had shouted, drawing the attention of the men sitting around him as well the police officers. Robin looks at him, worried and confused, Brendan simply shakes his head, closing his eyes once again. Nobody says anything after that, silence filling the van.

After another few minutes, maybe five of just siting in silence a car approaching, stopping close by and then the engine cuts out. He waits and waits for something to happen, but the minutes pass buy and there's still no sign of an escape.

Soon after a door slams shut at the front of the van, one of the drivers has gotten out.

"Hey! Hey!" Brendan shouts to the officer still in the van. "What's going on out there? Why aren't we moving?"

The man looks back on them, banging his baton against the plastic grating partition. "Prisoner Brady!" The officer shouts. "You need to calm down, or I'll be forced to use this on you." He raises the plastic stick in his hand. "It will do you well to think about your actions, and how to carry on from here." The man looks Brendan in the eye for a second too long before turning around.

Brendan takes that as a sign, reckons he has to take his chance now and pray to God that Joel's plan works out. He pulls at his chain, one, two, three times before it untangles. There's a second when all the prisons in the back of the van turn to look at him, and then all hell breaks lose. They're all shouting, having realised what's happening, trying to get Brendan to free them also. He looks at the officer who seems to have gone deaf, head turned forward unmoving. Robin is also unmoved, looking at Brendan in shock.

Brendan stands, cuffs still around his wrists and chain dangling from the middle, but he is free. He crouches to undo Robin from his confines, but even when the padlock has been removed and he can stand the boy doesn't.

"Kid, we're getting out of here, so I'm going to need for you to move."

The boy shakes his head, whispers _'we can't'_ , and Brendan gets it because escaping still feels like a ridiculous idea to him. But it's hit him now, if he doesn't try this then he is going to spend the rest of his life in Prison. If they stay in the van, they will be in their new cells within the hour, their home for decades to come, the place that they'll both probably end up dying. Brendan will not die in prison. So even if this doesn't plan out, even if the authorities catch up with them in the end, how can they not at least try?

"Robin." He cups the boy's cheeks in his palm. "Robin." Brendan repeats after he still has not replied. He leans his forehead against the younger mans, moving his hands down to Robin's neck and squeezes, trying to get him to focus on him and block out everybody else. "You trust me right?"

Robin parts his lips to speak, but no sound comes out. Instead he pulls back to look Brendan in the eye, he see the man that has kept him safe for weeks, that stood up for him when they were still strangers.

When Brendan had been pulling at his restraints Robin didn't know what was going on, he was scared that Brendan was losing it, especially after the manic shout. Then the man stood, and undid Robin's chains too, it was a plan to break out he assumes.

The first thing that comes to his mind is police officers shouting warnings as he and Brendan run through a dark street, the light from the moon lighting their path, they ignore the shouting and just keep running before being shot in the back of their heads.

Robin is scared, but above all he trust Brendan, will willingly put his life in the man's hands, so he nods.

"Good." Brenda sighs in relief. "Good lad. Now, you're going to stand up and we're-"

Brendan cuts himself off, the shouts and pleades of the other men also die out when the van door is opened and sunlight floods the previously unlighted space.

"It's time to go, you ready?" Brendan asks Robin.

"Yeah."

Brendan and Robin leave the van together, their small prison holdalls in hand. As they climb out the shouts of the other men restart, begging to be taken with them. Brendan closes the door behind them, but not before smiling wolfishly at beefcake.

The officer that had opened the van door is gone, already back in the van and the vehicle is driving away within seconds. Parked at the edge of the lane is a red Peugeot with Joel sitting in the driver's seat.

"Get in." Brendan instructs robin, climbing in himself.

"You look surprised to see me." Joel says with a smile on his face.

"Wouldn't be the first time one of your plans didn't quite work out, so you'll excuse me for being skeptical."

"You've got to have hope, man." Joel tells him as he shifts gears, reversing and speeds of down the narrow dirt road.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Ste's in the next chapter :)


	15. Extra, Extra Read All About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The village deals with the fallout of Brendan's escape.

**12th July**

After Brendan's arrest things had been stained between the two men, Ste was hurting and took his pain out on Doug and eventually Doug grew tired of Ste pushing him away. It was difficult, but eventually things go back to normal, they go for drinks in the evening or for lunch when they can get Holly and Jason to cover at the deli.

It's a normal day at the deli, well normal apart from the obvious, but Ste hasn't wanted to talk about it and so Doug doesn't bring it up again. They spend the morning selling coffees and teas, alongside toast and croissants. Doug keeps a close eye on his business partner, just in case. At lunch they serve sandwiches, smoked salmon salad boxes and paninis. The entire village has heard the news by now, which explains why the lunchtime rush is more manic that usual.

The newspapers haven't given a lot of detail, just that two convicted murderers have escaped from a prison transport van, Brendan Brady and Robin Watson. Everybody wants to know why he did it? How he did? Was Ste in on it? Had Brendan been in contact? Doug knows it was only human nature, wanting to be in on the gossip, but he's thankful that most people have the good sense not to ask Ste directly. He still keeps an eye on his business partner, just in case.

It's the slow time between lunch and dinner, the lull in customers gives Ste the chance to prep for dinner and Doug some time to clean. The business is doing well, they work in symbiosis, organised teamwork during busier times, singing and dancing along to the radio when it is quiet. Hence, why when three police officers walk through the door neither Ste nor Doug notice.

"Gentlemen." One of the officers calls out, turning down the radio after tiring of watching the two men jiggle around with very little rhythm or coordination.

Doug had expected that they'd want to question Ste at some point, he's surprised that it's taken almost twenty four hours. He looks over at Ste who has an unreadable expression on his face, the smile he had as he sang along to Jessie J is long gone. Doug hates that even when Brendan isn't in Ste's life that he is still able to cause trouble. Ste is finally putting himself back together, has been really happy the last few weeks, this is only going to bring it all back.

"A moment of your time?" The same officer asks. He's a middle-aged man, few pounds overweight, with greying, thinning hair. Entirely forgettable, but his presence seems to anger Ste greatly.

Doug dries off his hands using a dishcloth, leaving the kitchen ahead of Ste. "What can we do for you today?" He asks cheerfully, over compensating for Ste's obvious hostility towards them.

"We're here to ask Mr Hay a few questions." The youngest of the three informs them. "I'm DI Price, this is DI Milner and DCI Shawnee." A smile on his face to match Doug's own.

"Well I ain't got nowt to say." Ste storming out of the kitchen to join the group. "Sorry you've 'ad a wasted journey." He tells them, turning his back to aggressively wipe down the already spotless counter top.

"So you know why we're here the?" Shawnee asks.

"It were all over the telly last night."

"You don't look too concerned?" Shawnee observers, trying to figure the Mancunian out.

"Why would I be? He has noting to do with my life no more and I want nothing to do with the man. What I don't understand is why it takes three coppers to ask a few questions. It sounds like a joke that: 'three coppers walk in to a deli'." He laughs to himself.

"DCI Shawnee and I were the primary officers on the Brady case, and DI Milner here was the arresting officer." Price explains. "All we want to know is where you were at 5:07pm, on the 11th July?"

"You can't be fucking serious?" Ste demands, stepping forward antagonistically.

"Ste was with me, here, working all day." Doug answers, placing a hand on Ste's shoulder to pull him back.

"I remember what you were like on the night of the stand off, and the next day in the hospital. You told me Brendan was your life, you were devastated." DI Milner reminisces. "We have it on record that over the first couple of weeks of his incarceration, you sent Brendan visiting order request daily, I find it hard to believe that you don't care that he's out there some where."

"Yeah visiting orders that he never approved, don't forget the letters that were returned, unread."

"Ste, if you care about Brendan you'd tell us what you know. It's better that we find him now, or he turn himself in before he puts himself in danger."

"You ain't listening to me, I told Brendan that I'd stand by him through the trial and everything but he wanted nothing to do with me. So yeah once upon a time, he was my life and I truly believed that we'd have our happily ever after, I did. But honestly, I want nothing to do with the man now!" Ste is practically screaming, he's gotten so worked up.

The deli door opens, bell above it going off, drawing the attention of the entire shop.

"Declan." Ste greets, calming instantly, fake smile plastered on his face.

Declan walks around the counter to stand next to Ste, looking nervously at the police officers.

"Declan Brady?" Price asks.

"Yeah."

"I thought you wanted nothing to do with Brendan Brady?" Shawnee asks Ste, smug smile on her face.

"Declan has nothing to do with his father, the kids been though a lot and just needed to get away."

"Declan, did you speak to your dad while he was in prison?" Price asks. "Did you have any idea of what he was planning?"

"Wait a minute." Ste interrupts. "He's under eighteen, you can't question him without his mother present."

"That would be the case if he were under arrest or in police custardy. We're just here to ask a few informal questions, see if we can't figure this out before it gets out of hand." Milner informs them.

"I ain't having this right-"

"Ste it's fine." Declan assures him. "No I haven't spoken to my father, why would I have? I barely spoke to him before he killed my granddad."

"Is this really necessary?" Ste asks, worried about Declan. The teen is putting on a brave face but has been different since they had heard the news the previous night, hadn't even touched the vegetarian cottage pie Ste had made. "He doesn't know anything, and he doesn't need this right now. Neither of us does."

"I understand, but we need to question everyone in Brendan's life. Has he tried to make contact since yesterday?"

"Right, that's enough." Ste interjects, irritated. "He's a minor, you want to ask him anything else you need to contact his mother, in Ireland. If there's nothing else, I have a business to run."

"Okay, but you'll be hearing from us." Shawnee warns, before leaving the store, the two men at her heels.

-8-

"Declan I need to talk to Ste, can you give us a minute?" Doug asks the teenager.

"Want me out of the way so you can talk about my dad? No way."

"Dec, please." Ste asks the youngster. "I'll see you at home later."

"I'm not going anywhere. Anything you have to say, you can say it in front of me."

Ste signs exasperated, caring for a teenager, not long out of his teens himself is harder than he though it be. "Fine, but before we get into any of that maybe you can explain to me why you're not at school at 1:45 on a weekday?" Ste waits but Declan doesn't say a word, just lowers his eyes guilty. "I promised your mother you'd behave, do I need to call Mr Blake to find out what's been happening?"

"No, I'm going!" Declan gives Doug one last death stare before storming out.

"Teenagers." Ste jokes awkwardly, trying to pave over the tension that has festered between Declan and Doug from day one.

When he first arrived to the village Declan had walked in on Ste and Doug hugging. Assuming that they were more than just friends he took an instant disliking to the American on principle. Declan had been in a bit of trouble over the weeks, acting out, stealing, getting into fights, Ste knew he was a good kid who didn't know how to deal with everything but Doug couldn't look at the boy without seeing Brendan. They didn't exactly get on.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Doug accuse as soon as the deli door shuts behind Declan.

"What was?"

"You're involved, in Brendan's escape."

"Doug, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about." Steven says flatly, returning to the pasta sauce for pizza.

"I always thought is strange how you just up and got over him. One days it all 'I've lost the only man that I've ever loved' woe is me, and the next it's like he never existed, because you knew he'd be out."

"You don't know anything Doug, I didn't 'just up and get over it'. After spending two weeks straight drunk and high in my flat and… and-" Ste stops, wiping away the tears that are rolling down his face, trying to get his breathing under control. "…and then a failed suicide attempt I had to take a hard look at my life and what I had become. Brendan, he used to treat me like crap. Not just the beatings, he'd mess with me head too, till I didn't know which way up." He admits. "I made excuses after excuse for him, telling myself he was messed up, and that he loved me really. But Brendan is a monster, simple as that. That's what I realised when I woke up on my bathroom floor, stomach full of pill and booze, my kids gone, my self-respect gone. Brendan Brady was the biggest mistake of my life. So I came back to work, put him behind me and started to live my life."

"Ste, I-I." Doug can't get the words out over his tears. Can't believe that things had gotten that bad, that he had almost lost Ste and has been oblivious. Ste encloses Doug in a tight hug, letting him cry on his shoulder. "I don't know what to say." He confesses. "I'm so sorry. Of course you had nothing to do with this. I'm so sorry, for everything."

"It's fine." Ste promises him. "All I want now is for Brendan to stay away from Declan and me. After everything he has put us through we should be able to live our live without his shadow hanging over us."

"Yeah I understand that… and Ste if I had known you felt like the only way out was to take your own life, I would have been there more, tried harder to-"

"Doug don't worry about it." Ste offers him a tight smile. "I'm not in that place anymore and there was nothing you could have said or done. Believe me. You've been such a good friend and I'm grateful to have you."

"If there's anything you ever want to talk about, I'm here. Always." He offers regardless.

"I know."

Ste pulls away and starts to untie his apron.

"Actually, I could do with getting off early to check on Declan. I think we could both do with a quite night in, you know?"

"Yeah sure, take all the time you need. If you want I can come over after closing? Talk things over?"

"That would be nice, but probably not the best idea with Declan and all."

"Oh right, if you're sure."

"Doug don't worry. All I need is to forget that Brendan Brady ever existed, and everything will be alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: the immediate events after the escape


	16. Lost Time

 

**11th July**

To Brendan's right Joel is abiding by every road law and speed limit known to man, to avoid drawing attention to them now that they're driving through a more populated area. In the backseat Robin hasn't moved a muscle, twenty-five minutes and not so much as a glance up, he's completely zoned out, eyes glued to their surroundings.

The excitement has evaporated and the sensation of pure adrenaline induced euphoria is reduced to a low simmer, all Brendan is left with is the reality of their situation. It actually worked. Joel did it. He's free, but the coppers could be round the next corner, every move, every step, every decision they make from here on out is vital to their continued freedom.

Back in the courthouse toilets there hadn't been anytime to go over the plan in it's entirety. Once he and Robin were both out of the transport van the priority had been to get far away, and Joel has gotten them this far but Brendan isn't willing to gamble with his life, with is freedom. If they are going to stay one step ahead of the police then he needs to know the logistics of this plan.

"Stoke-on-Trent." Joel answers when Brendan asks where exactly they are going.

He says it nonchalantly, as if it makes all the sense in the world. It doesn't, not to Brendan anyway.

Seeing the unimpressed expression on Brendan's face Joel explains how they need a safe house, somewhere to lie low until the search dies down. Brendan can't help but think that Joel has watched one too many thriller movies, because what they need is to get away, far away. The Isle fucking Man, Spain, Timbuktu even Eastbourne would do – anywhere but Stoke-on-Trent, Joel doesn't agree. All major roads, airports and ferry ports will be on high alert, keeping watch for anyone that even slightly matches Brendan and Robin's description.

Joel reckons the police will eventually start looking elsewhere, farther out, run out of leads, the investigation will be downside, until one day something or someone else will become more important. The day will come where the only logical explanation will be that they made it out of the country, somehow. They just have to lay low until then, and then they can make their move.

Brendan can admit that it's a logical plan, except the part where they bunker down in Stoke-on-Trent. It's too close. Too close to Manchester Prison, the place he will end up if they are caught. Too close to Chester, to Hollyoaks village, the place – the person – Brendan can't stand being apart from now that there aren't bars physically keeping him away.

If they are going to settle down in one place, for what could be several months, until the time comes when their faces aren't on television screens and newspaper, then Brendan would prefer to put some distance between him and the overbearing shadows' of all his regrets.

Further than the West Midlands at least.

But Joel has gotten them this for and the boy words are still with Brendan, "you've go to have hope".

In prison Brendan let go of all hope – the seedlings Steven had planted within him – it had to be that way for Brendan to keep hold of his mind. To hold together the fragile pieces of his sanity, it had been a necessity.

Before prison, even before Hollyoaks village, from the time he had his innocence stolen from him as a boy, Brendan had been taught that hope was stupid, and for the foolish. Maybe he had been fool, just a silly child, because while he pretended to be a cynic, eight year old Brendan was really a dreamer, terrified of wanting something that would never get.

But here, today, in this moment Brendan has gotten the thing he wants. He's free. So he can't help but be grateful for Joel's perpetual faith in the unknown, in his idealism, in the boy's soul crushing hope that things will get better.

Words like hope, possibility, future and chance have never really been a factor in Brendan's life. But Joel's upbringing hadn't been that different to Brendan's, the boy has also been through a lot. Yet somehow Joel is the type of person to try over and over with unrelenting determination.

If there weren't people like Joel in the world, who believe in possibility, things would never get done. Brendan wouldn't be a free man. So if Joel says they are going to Stoke-on- ****Trent, Stoke-on-Trent it will be.

He has to trust in something.

~8~

18th July

It's been seven days, seven days of freedom… well as free as you can get in a small, open plan kitchen/lounge, one bedroom flat. Brendan sometimes feels like he's moved from one prison to another. They haven't been outdoors in six days, can't risk being seen. It's been a long seven days. The two men are living on top of each other, nothing to do, with Joel's visits being the only thing to break up the monotony.

Brendan isn't sure how Robin is managing, he's unusually quite, frighten by every sound, so he tells the young man that it won't be like this forever. Honestly, he's not sure. Joel is being weird, it seems like he is waiting for something, but whatever that something is, is making Joel anxious. This doesn't fill Brendan with confidence in Joel's escape plan, in their future as free men and his hope, his faith is dwindling.

There's not much he can control about this situation, but he can attempt to make it easy, so that's what he does - for Robin at least. He remembers Robin mentioning that as a young boy he had loved the old Spiderman animated series. In an attempt to cheer the boy up and get his mind off – everything – Brendan finds the episodes on Youtube and has Joel to set it up on the flat screen.

The two escapees make a night of it, have Joel bring round a takeaway - because they can't have food delivered - just in case. They settle down with their curries and cold beers, although Robin isn't much of a drinker, owing to fact that up to a week ago he had spent the majority of his adult life behind bars.

As a child Brendan was more into superman, well for a while anyway… preferred DC Comics to Marvel, but five bottles in even he can admit that this dodgy cartoon isn't too bad. Switching beer for whiskey, it somehow turns into drinking game, taking a shot every time one of the many villains says or does something diabolical.

~8~

19th July

The last thing Brendan remembers from the night before is the sweet burn of whiskey sliding down his throat while he wondered how on earth Mary Jane hadn't figure out that Peter Parker and Spiderman are one in the same. Then sometime during the night waking up, neck strained and back sore from falling asleep on the sofa. The threadbare settee has been doubling as a bed for Robin over the last week, but the thing is falling apart and defiantly not suitable for sleeping on long-term. In his drunken, sleep infused state Brendan made a mental note to get Joel to buy a sofa bed.

Despite the discomfort of a spring digging into his thigh and the dead weight of Robin asleep on his right side, Brendan can't muster the energy to get up and make the journey to the bedroom. Instead, fumbling about for the remote he simply switches off the telly, tilts his head back and falls sleep.

Hours later he wakes up mouth dry, head groggy and eyelids heavy, this is the only reason Brendan is sure he truly awake. Because the sight before him only ever graces his dreams, yet the hangover growing in it's intensity with every passing second tells him he is awake, conscious, that this is not an mirage nor a dream.

"Steven?" The stunned Irishman croaks, voice muffled more from astonishment than sleep.

"Hi." The younger man replies, licking then biting his lips, having so much to say but not sure where to start after all this time apart.

The two men stare at each other for what feels likes hours, time is moving so slowly it feels like the hands on the clock have developed arthritis. Ste's lips form a small, almost shy smile, the younger man still can't fully comprehend that Brendan is here, tangible, within touching distance.

"What are you doing here?" Brendan asks, at the same time Ste says, "I can't believe this is real."

Both men apologies profusely for talking over the other, followed by an awkward silence.

"You go." Ste finally says.

"No, you."

"No, really it's fine." The younger of the two insists.

"You know what?" Brendan asks rhetorically, extracting his arm from under Robin's sleeping body, carefully placing the boys head on a cushion.

Brendan stands, stalks across the room until he's directly in front of Ste. The older man takes a moment to really take it in, to drink in every inch of his lover not twelve inches away. Brendan is almost scared to move, to breath, frightened that if he blinks for even a fraction of a second that Steven will disappear. Because how can he believe such a perfect and beautiful surprise?

"Fuck the pleasantries." He finally breathes out, voice rough and low.

Brendan surges forward, closing the space between them so that their lips can meet. They kiss for an eternity, gently at first but then it grows in passion and they can't get enough of one and other.

Ste is like a diabetic thirteen year old opening a bag of haribo, touching and grabbing for every part of Brendan's body he can. After all this time the hardness of Steven's teeth biting at his top lip and then the warm soft wetness of his tongue probe into his mouth is driving the Brendan absolutely insane.

However, Brendan is still very aware of Robin still asleep just behind them and so he begins to walk Ste back towards his bedrooms. They make it to the other side of the room, lips never parting and as he presses Steven against the bedroom door. Brendan makes several futile attempts at twisting the doorknob, but with Ste grinding his growing erection against the older man's hip it is proving difficult.

When the two men finally make it in to the room the younger of the two takes control, pushing the bigger man onto the bed. He takes his place, straddling Brendan's hips and leans forward to continue the kiss, just him and Brendan alone, only the sound of their breathing filling the room.

Brendan's hands move from their place on Steven's slender hip to trace his spine up to his neck, hands coming up to cup the boys face. Brendan leans forward to meet Steven the rest of the way, and then breaks off slowly to brush his lips across Steven's cheek, taking his earlobe into his mouth and biting gently.

"I've missed this… you." Brendan whispers. Ste can feel the hotness of the Irishman's breath on his neck, quick and jagged. It sends a shiver through him.

Ste moves down and kisses the hollow of Brendan's neck, his skin is warm and smooth against his lips. He goes back to the spot, dragging his tongue across it to taste the skin at the base of Brendan's neck that he's always loved. In return Brendan grasps Steven's hips and flips them over to trade places, Steven's back pinned against the bed, and his front aligned with the muscular planes of Brendan's body.

"You been working out." Steven notes.

"Had a lot of time on my hand."

Brendan slowly turns Ste's pliant body over, his back now flush against Brendan's chest and his hardness pressing against Ste. Brendan leans forward, speaking softly into Steven's ear asking, "Do you want me to touch you?". The younger man simply nods, but Brendan isn't satisfied with that, wants to hear. Needs it.

"Tell me."

"I want it, touch me." He replies.

Brendan begins to stroke Ste's hips and thigh, his hands slowly making their way to Steven's front until he is rubbing the growing swell through his joggers. Steven presses the entire length of his body upwards, moaning into the pillowing in frustration, needing more.

"Bren, come on."

Brendan ignores Steven's pleas, instead his fingers circle Ste's nipples, feeling them becoming erect through the fabric of his tee-shirt. Steven is breathing more quickly now, trying to rid himself of his joggers but Brendan reaches out and removes his hands.

He pulls Steven's tee-shirt up over his head, throwing it somewhere in the room before turning the boy over once again. Brendan brings his hands back up to continue their work on Steven's nipple, drawing a moan from the lad. Again, Steven tries to move things on, his hands move to grope Brendan, but the older man just swats them away.

It's been so long that Brendan's even been able to touch Steven, the last time they were together he was dragged away. He just wants to savour this, every part of it, take his time. And honestly, Steven's frustration has always excited Brendan.

"Brendan I want you in me, I need it."

Hearing Steven's request, this excites Brendan even more and he has to oblige. Brendan traces along the outside of Steven's legs down to your knees and then turn inward to begin slowly moving his hands up the inside of his thighs. Steven's body stiffen as Brendan's gentle, almost not there touch proceed upward.

Brendan stops, moves to kiss Ste hard as unzip his blue tracksuit jacket, pushing it off Ste's shoulders. Brendan makes quick work of discarding of the jacket and the tee-shirt Ste has on underneath it, finally getting the younger man out of his joggers and boxers. Ste moans softly as Brendan runs a nipple between his fingers, and then replaces the fingers with his mouth, biting down gently.

The moans become loader, are more pronounced now that Brendan is sucking on Ste's nipple, circling it with his tongue. He finally gives in to Ste's protest at the stimulation at his now over sensitive nipple, and proceeds to pepper down the younger man's slender body. Once he reaches the point where the few tuffs off hair below Ste's bellybutton form a jungle of thick pubic hair Brendan kneels back to observe his handy work, the red blotches now covering Ste's chest and belly.

Ste smiles up at Brendan and reaches up for the first button on the Irishman's shirt, slowly undressing him, showering kiss all over Brendan's body as he goes. Now both fully undressed, Steven's hardon dripping precome over his stomach, the room thick with the scent of it, every thing seems more urgent. Brendan lick's up the mess Steven has made of himself, tasting the sweet bitter and then he nestles his head in Steve's hip, kissing his thigh and licking a strips up the underside of his dick. His tongue snakes out to lick the throbbing head of his pinking cock as it seeps more precome. Brendan goes to lick at the soft skin of his hairy balls, Ste pumping his swollen shaft slowly. He takes one of his balls into his mouth and rolls it around with his tongue, it's driving Ste crazy. He starts to pump his cock harder and faster and Brendan takes both full balls into his mouth, licking and sucking intensely as Ste continues to stroke himself frantically. It feels so good but Ste needs more, he tugs at Brendan's too long hair, pulling him away from his balls towards his hot cock. Brendan willing opens his mouth, accepting his cock it one fluid motion down his throat. Coming up for air, Brendan swirl his tongue around the head of Ste's cock as he move it in and out of my mouth. A low, raspy groan escapes from Ste, as he bucks up. "I'm gonna come!" He warns as tapping on Brendan's back in a frenzy.

Neither man wants that, not yet anyway so Brendan moves back up Ste's body, kissing and sucking on his racing flutter of his jugular.

"Hold on a sec." Ste says.

He rolls to the side of the bed, never too far from Brendan's caressing hands. Stretching for his joggers Ste retrieves a sachet of lubricant and a reel of condoms from the pocket. He rolls back on to his back, to find Brendan giving him an intrigued look.

"What?" He questions, slightly self-conscious.

"Nothing." Brendan shakes his head, smiling slightly. He wants to make a comment about Ste being presumptuous, but honestly how else was to going to end? "Nothing at all."

"Alright, stop staring then 'nd get to work." He demands, shoving the supplies into Brendan's hand.

Brendan doesn't need to be told twice, moving to kneel in between Ste's legs he pushes his knees apart to create a space for himself. Steven automatically tilts his hips, creating the optimum angle for access. Brendan takes a moment to gaze into your depths of Ste's puckering hole, before tears open the sachet of lube with his teeth.

It's all very frantic. Brendan's slicked finger breaching Ste's tight ring, moving in and out to open him up. Another finger is added, and then another until Ste is a withering mess at Brendan working him loose with all four fingers. It probably isn't enough, but neither man can wait another second, so it isn't long before Ste his rolling a condom onto Brendan and the older man is entering the other.

Slowly, inch-by-inch Brendan snakes into Ste's tight heat, by the time he has him completely impaled they are both breathing rapidly, ste gasping at the stretch. Brendan waits until Ste kisses the side of his face, hand running through his, an indication that he is ready. He pulls all the way out, before pushing back in, deeper through the tight folds, filling and stretching Ste.

His muscles are hot, and tighter than Brendan remembers, a scorching inferno encasing him. He takes a hold of Ste's protruding hips and thrust hard, burying himself so deep, almost howling from the pleasure. Ste trembles against him, his inner thighs shaking uncontrollably before his orgasm is erupting in between them.

Brendan begins to pushes into Ste harder, rougher, slamming home, going as deep and as hard as he can with each stroke, taking Ste's breath, not giving him time to recover from the effects of his own orgasm.

He looks down at Ste's face, Ste looking directly back up at him as Brendan's climax approaches. Ste's gaze is piercing and powerful, causing the older man's arousal to skyrocket, Brendan's eyes gradually seem to lose their focus until he is totally lost in Ste. His face contours, body stiffens, and eyelids flutter as he empties his load into the condom. Brendan's entire body relaxes and his breathing slows, and his eyes open to take in sight of Ste. Leaning down to kiss Ste slowly, he carefully pulls out and discards of the condom. Both men collapse into a heap on the mattress, drained, panting and weak.

Spent and exhausted Ste falls asleep, and when he wakes up, head foggy he isn't sure how much time has passed. It doesn't matter because this is the first time in a long time that he has woken up in the arms that he as missed do much. He open's his eyes to find Brendan looking down at him, he sits up to place a hard kiss on Brendan's lips. Brendan doesn't exactly kiss back but neither does he reject it. When Ste pulls away to look Brendan in the eye he can tell something is wrong, the mood in the room has turned sour like curdled milk.

Brendan takes Ste's face in his hands and brushing his sweaty hair back. "What are you doing here Steven?"


	17. 'Till I'm In My Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Charmin Anderson

**19th July**

The two men sit in silence for almost seven whole minutes. Ste watching the third hand on the clock above the door tick by. Palms sweaty and leg jiggering, Ste hasn't said anything, he isn't quite able to look the older man in the eye for more than half a second, doesn't want to see Brendan's disappointment in him. Ste eye's shift to the wall behind Brendan, back to Brendan's searching gaze and then back to the wall like there is something more interesting going on within the print of the floral wallpaper.

"Steven!" Brendan doesn't shout, simple raises his voice enough to get Ste's attention. He takes ahold of Ste's neck and continues to speak in a tone that lets Ste know that there's no getting out of this. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" Ste finally gives in and looks the other man in the eye. He can see the steel rod of a vein pulsing across the older man's temple. "Don't get mad, right." He warns.

"I have you with me, why would I –" Brendan stops, the truth hits him like shit tone of bricks because it is so obvious now. This was all Ste. "The break out, it was you?" Brendan physically withdraws, taking his hands off Ste. "How could you be so reckless Steven, so stupid?" He regrets it straight away, can't believe he has uttered those words. "I didn't mean that."

"Yeah, you did."

"I don't think you're stupid, Steven you know that." Brendan reassures as earnestly as he can.

"I know that, but you're right. Not exactly the smartest thing I've ever done." Ste sits up, climbing over so that he can straddle Brendan's lap, their foreheads coming to rest against each other's. "I weren't coping, with you in there and me out here… I couldn't... function. I told you I couldn't do it without you. I wouldn't have survived without you Brendan. So yeah, it were reckless and stupid, but it was worth it, because you're here now. I've got you back."

Ste tells Brendan all of this as if he is reading off a teleprompter on the distance. Like he's back there and reliving it all, the look in his eyes, the hopelessness. Brendan kisses him, hard, hoping the younger man can feel everything he wants to say but doesn't know how.

"I'm going away for life, you've got to live yours." Ste repeats Brendan's words from that day in the hospital all those months ago. Putting on the East Coast Irish accent that even now still makes Brendan smile. "Not so easy when you took the most important parts of me with you."

Brendan can't argue with that, can understand it even. It has been less than an hour, but it feels like a veil has been lifted now that Steven is back with him. The sight, feeling and scent of the boy has brought him back to life. He doesn't know the exact moment over the last three years, but he thinks Ste is right, at some point they had cut off the most important parts of themselves and then gave it away to the other.

He can't be angry with Ste, if their positions were reversed he would have done the same.

"Tell me everything. Beginning to end."

**~8~**

It takes about an hour for Ste to go through it all, to tell Brendan everything that has gone on during the time he was locked away.

He begins with the reoccurring dream he had every night for weeks, it seems as good a place to start as any other. In it Brendan had escaped from prison, turned up at his/their flat to take Ste with him. They could finally have their happy ever after.

Thinking back on it, maybe it was a reoccurring nightmare, haunting his sleep, because these dreams felt as real as anything. Every morning Ste would wake up in bed, alone, having to remind himself none of it was real. That Brendan was really gone, and that he may never see him again.

Then there's the day Jim comes to visit him with a cheque, his share of Brendan's assets, more money than Ste had ever imagined. Initially he didn't want it, he had lost the most important person to him, did Brendan really think that money was going to make up for is choice to leave? But then he remembered his dream, the dreams where Brendan was free and they could have their happily ever after.

It all seemed achievable then.

The first thing Ste did was to pay a crooked guard to keep an eye on Brendan. Once a week they'd sit in a café a few miles out from the prison, the guard recalling the events of the previous days over sugar loaded tea. Brendan remembers the guard, Philips, Warren had said his name was, his eye's constantly on him, at least he knows now that he wasn't being paranoid. Ste knows about everything that went on inside. The altercation with Lincoln, the condom business, Browning.

His next step was to figure out how to get Brendan out of the prison, but Ste is no criminal master mind and he quickly realized there was no way, which is how he came up with the courthouse. Ste has been on trial and in all the different courthouses he had been to the security had been the bare minimum. Sure there are cameras, guards and checkpoints but it isn't a prison, it public space. Anyone off the street can walk, Ste just had to figure out a way for Brendan to walk out.

Soon after he ran into Joel in the village, the young man knew Ste was up to something straight away, and Ste eventually convinced Joel to help him. He didn't know exactly what went on with Brendan and Joel but he knew they cared about each other once, that Brendan had eventually given Joel some money form the sale of the club. They both owed Brendan this.

Together they came up with fine details of the escape plan. Brendan knows the rest.

Although part of Brendan is furious that Ste would put his own freedom in jeopardy for Brendan's, mostly he is just falling in love with Ste all other again. The boy's strength never fails to amaze him, his ability to hold on, to love.

**~8~**

Hours pass as Brendan and Ste become reacquainted with each other's bodies over and over again. They could stay like this all day forgetting the outside world and all the obstacles they still have face, but eventually a noise from the other side of the door draws the two men out of their bubble.

"We better get out there, or he'll come looking." Brendan says untangling his limbs from Ste's.

Both men redress, Brendan heading out first while Ste tries to fix and flatten his sex ruffled hair.

**~8~**

Robin notes the change in Brendan as soon as he walks through into the main living area. He isn't smiling, but there's something about his expression, in his entire demeanor, it's not something that Robin's ever seen in Brendan before. He's about to ask if something's happened, if something has changed when the answer to his questions appears behind Brendan.

Steven.

Brendan's never mention the other man to Robin before, but it was always obvious to him that the Irishman had left someone behind on the out side. Brendan never brought it up, he has his secrets, things he felt like he had to keep to himself to be seen as strong and so Robin never asked. But he had caught the older man looking at a thumbed photo of the fair-haired boy once and there had been that time Warren mentioned a "young Steven" in an attempt to wind Brendan up, and it had worked.

The three men stand looking at each other, before Brendan introduces them to one and other like the entire situation is completely normal. Ste and Robin are both perfectly polite but it's awkward to say the least. Brendan's stomach rumbles, the sound loud and rough like a chain saw, breaking through the awkward silence causing them all to laugh.

Robin can imagine what the two other men were doing in the next room to get Brendan's body audibly pleading for sustenance. He doesn't need to imagine, it's clear to see from the state of Ste's hair and the red marks covering the boys neck. Robin himself has the hangover from hell and is craving a greasy fry up and so he offers to make them all breakfast, at the same time Ste offers the same thing.

"I've got it Steven, why don-"

"Ste." He corrects.

"What?"

"My name, it's Ste."

"Right. Sorry. Ste." Smiling, trying to ignore the passive aggressive hostility being aimed at him. "Like I was saying, you're our guest, you don't have to cook."

"Well seeing as I'm paying for this place and all the food in the fridge, I'd say you're our guest. Actually, seeing as you weren't actually invited I'd say you're more like an intruder."

"Steven!" Brendan chides. "What's the matter with you?"

"It's fine." Robin tells Brendan, resting hand on the older man's arm. "I'm going to take a bath, I've had my eye on the tub since we've been here. Worst thing about prison that was, not being able to have good soak." He says light heartedly.

"You do that." Ste snipes, turning is back on them to start with the food preparations.

"What was all that about?"

"What?" Steven shrugs, looking into the fridge, back to Brendan.

"Why are you treating him like scum?"

"You are unbelievable." Ste shouts accusingly. Finally turning around to face Brendan.

"Me? You're the one going off at the kid for no reason. What is you're your problem?"

"Why did you bring him with you?" Ste questions, voice shaky. "What is he doing here, Brendan?"

"I couldn't leave Robin to rot in that place, alone. He wouldn't have made it."

"I don't get why that's your concern anymore."

"Steven, you know I don't turn my back on the people I care about."

Ste laugh mirthlessly. "That's how you ended up inside in the first place."

"I'm not going to argue with you about Cheryl." Brendan says flatly.

"Okay, fine." Ste gets it, knows why Brendan would put his life on the line for his sister, but Robin? "What are we supposed to do with him now?"

"I dunno, Joel ambushing me in he courthouse loo didn't give me much time to think that far ahead. I guess I just assumed he would come with me, wherever Joel has planned for me to go."

"Well it ain't Joel's plan, it's mine. So that you and me can be together, just you and me, right Brendan. There ain't no room for another person, we can't risk it."

Ste's gotten him self worked up with frustration over the situation. He is physically shaking, eyes swelling up with unshed tears. Brendan gets close enough to rest his hands at the bases on Ste neck, his thumbs stroking just behind Ste ears to try and calm him.

"I can't abandon him." Brendan tells the younger man after he seems to have settled.

"He ain't you problem anymore."

"Inside, I looked out for him, but he did the same for me. You think that I could have survived without you either? Robin, he gave me purpose in that place, a reason to carry on. He will always be my problem, I can't just turn my back on him now."

Ste flinches away from Brendan's touch. He can remember the day when he had said the very same thing about Brendan. "You'll always be my problem." Someone else being that important to Brendan tears him up inside.

"The idea of you fucking another guy in prison, I could just about handle. Just another warm body to get you through it, I get that and it's fine. I'm fine with it. But this Bren?"

Stevens voice quivers and his eyelids spasm, close to tears. "You can't really expect me to play nice with you little boyfriend, you can't expect be to stand here and listen to how special he is."

"Wait… you think," Brendan looks toward the bathroom, with an amused look on his face. "Is that what this is about, you think me and Robin are sleeping together?"

"Don't act like the idea of you being with another man is ridiculous. Remember John Paul McQueen?"

"I can't even tell if you're being serious right now. You we're married and moving to America. John Paul meant nothing."

"Yeah, I know. Macca, Vinnie, Eoghan, that guy you snogged in the club after you got out of prison the first time, and the one hundred other men you've picked up, they all nothing. You're not a monk, I know."

"That was different. You know it was."

"Do I? How exactly?"

"I was never with anyone else while we were together, not once. From the first time we kissed I never wanted, no I never needed anyone but you."

"But we weren't together remember, you broke up with me, wouldn't even let me see you."

"I thought I'd be locked away for life, Steven. It was better that way but it doesn't mean I'd let you go, not in here." Brendan taps two fingers against the side of his head. "Or here." Then the fingers move down to rest against his chest, just to the left over his heart is. "No one was going to fill the gaping hole you left in here, not after everything we'd built those last few months."

Ste is speechless, all he can do is look up and smile at his love.

"You're the only one for me, and even though we haven't been together my heart was always yours, will always be yours."

"And my heart is yours, Brendan." Steven says, moving closer to Brendan.

Brendan's lips tug into a lop sided grin, his hands coming to rest against Steven's beating heart.

"And I will cherish it, every single say."

"Everyday until you're in your grave, right?" Steven asks.

"Till the next life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: day excursions


End file.
